To Capture the Sky (Choices of the Heart, book 2)

by Jennie Marsland

  “I appreciate that.” Beth didn’t dare say more. If she really loved Trey, and not just the freedom and challenges of his way of life, why was she sitting here? Why was she in New York at all?

  This was the kind of man she used to dream of, the kind of man she’d given up hope of meeting after Uncle Robert’s death. A man who was genuinely interested in her, a man who spoke her language. Since that night at the gallery, a whole new world of possibilities had opened up at Beth’s feet. Wouldn’t it be best for her and for Trey if she stayed in this new world and left him free to find someone more suited to his life? Someone more like Maddy?

  Mr. Caldwell met her gaze. Did he sense her confusion? Or would he call it disloyalty? “Mrs. McShannon, I won’t pretend that I don’t find you attractive. Thanks to Walter you know better, but you are married. Nothing else needs to be said, except that I wish you every happiness. As long as I am in New York, Mrs. James won’t be your only friend here.”

  Beth thanked him, got herself out of the gallery and into her cab. Her thoughts were still whirling an hour later when she sat down to lunch with Isobel.

  Isobel picked up on Beth’s preoccupation right away. “You’re very quiet. What happened at the gallery this morning?”

  Beth hesitated. Would it be better to just tell Isobel that she’d answered Mr. Caldwell’s questions about their business agreement? Perhaps, but there wasn’t one chance in ten of her leaving it at that. Beth opted for the truth. “You were right about Mr. Caldwell, Isobel. He is interested in me.”

  Isobel had the grace not to smile, but Beth knew she wanted to. “And are you interested in him?”

  “He’s one of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He’s honest and decent, as well as very attractive. If I got to know him better, I think I could care for him.”

  Isobel took a sip of her tea, then held Beth’s gaze for a long moment. “Beth, you have some serious thinking to do.”

  Beth sighed and leaned back in her chair. Perhaps she should have done more thinking before marrying Trey in the first place. How badly hurt would he be if she stayed here? “At home, whenever I talked about wanting to sell my art, or about what I wanted in a marriage, Aunt Abigail always said ‘be careful what you wish for.’ So many things I’ve wished for have happened in the last few days that I’m dizzy. John Caldwell just makes everything more complicated.”

  Isobel’s expression turned serious, perhaps even a little wistful. “You really care for this man in Colorado, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.” In a way that Isobel didn’t seem to care for Walter. Did she miss what she didn’t have, what Beth had never heard her admit to wanting?

  With what looked like a conscious effort, Isobel smiled. “Beth, you and I have always been different in one important way.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re a romantic. Now, don’t misunderstand me – I’m not saying that’s a fault. It’s probably one of the things that make you a fine artist, but I think it’s a mistake to make important decisions based on feelings alone.”

  Mistakes like showing your feelings for Daniel Hunter? Like letting yourself fall for Trey? “Isobel, you’re right. We are different. And right now, I wish with all my heart that I were more like you.”

  After lunch, Beth went with Isobel to call on a friend regarding a charity dinner the friend was organizing. Later, Beth occupied herself sketching some interiors in the house – the only work she’d had time to do here. At one point, she came out of her room to find Michael’s nurse in the hall. “He’s asleep, so I’m going to slip down to the kitchen and bring back a cup of tea. Would you like me to bring you one, ma’am?”

  “No, thank you. Sarah, I’d like to do a drawing of Michael to give to Mrs. James as a gift. Would it be all right if I step into the nursery and do it now, while he’s asleep?”

  “I don’t see why not. He’s a good sleeper. As long as you’re quiet, you won’t wake him. I won’t be ten minutes.”

  In the nursery, Beth moved a chair next to Michael’s crib and began sketching the little boy. She let her mind wander while she worked. When – if – she had children, which would she rather give them – a life like Michael’s, with the guarantee of a good education and the opportunity to become whatever they chose, or life on Trey’s homestead, where the only guarantee would be hard work?

  Before she knew it, the nurse returned. Beth took her sketch back to her room and added a few final details – the pin-tucking on Michael’s nightshirt, the soft sheen of his hair, his delicate eyelashes… Beth thought she’d captured Michael’s sweet innocence as well as she’d captured Trey’s personality in the sketch she’d done of him.

  She put away her sketchbook, slipped out of the house, and headed for Central Park. Beth found a bench in a quiet, shady spot, closed her eyes, and imagined that the gurgle of a nearby fountain was the sound of the river that cut through Trey’s grazing land.

  If she went back to him, her children wouldn’t have the opportunities they’d have in New York. They might not even have the opportunity to live. So many children died young out there. She and Trey would never talk the way she and John Caldwell, or someone like him, could talk.

  Trey wasn’t being selfish or narrow-minded when he said he couldn’t manage the ranch and children by himself. He was simply telling the truth. If Beth returned to Colorado, making two trips east every year just wouldn’t be possible. She’d be giving up a part of herself, a part of who she’d always been.

  Isobel was right. She had some serious thinking to do.

  * * *

  Trey sat up in bed, heart pounding, disoriented in the deep darkness of the moonless night. He’d dreamed of Justin’s death again, but then the dream had shifted and he’d been making love to Beth, buried deep inside her, losing himself in her welcoming warmth. His body ached for her, while the horror of that night on the road to Spotsylvania still filled his mind.

  He rose and lit the lamp. The cabin was utterly silent, with no sound of Beth’s breathing to break the stillness. It felt as empty as when he’d first settled here. An emptiness so vast he couldn’t fathom it.

  Trey lit a candle, climbed to the loft, and sat on Beth’s bed. The sheets still held her scent. One of her sketchbooks lay on the edge of the nightstand. He picked it up and leafed through it until he came to the drawing she’d done of him during her first week at the homestead. He hadn’t seen it before. He’d known about it, but for some reason Beth wouldn’t explain, she’d refused to show it to him.

  Good Lord. That trick with his eyes. He’d had no idea he did that, but he’d seen Chelle do it every day of her life at home. Beth hadn’t just copied his face, she’d managed to put a bit of his soul on paper, just as she’d done with Cloud in the drawing that hung on the wall downstairs.

  She’d told him she loved him, and what had he done? He’d broken her heart and sent her off to make it on her own in New York if she could.

  A wave of self-disgust hit Trey so strongly he couldn’t sit still. Deep down, he’d known from the start that what he’d done to Beth was abandonment. He’d made coming back to him an almost untenable option. What had taken him until now to understand, what he still didn’t want to admit, was that Logan was right. He hadn’t done it for her good; he’d done it for himself, because it scared him so much to think of losing her.

  Trey lay back on Beth’s bed and, for the first time since reading Isobel’s letter, he started thinking about a compromise. Racing had always held a thrill for him. Working for a good stable, training young horses and seeing them succeed, seeing Cloud’s get become winners, could be a very satisfying life – and it could be lived a lot closer to where Beth needed to be. He’d considered himself settled here, but now it didn’t feel like home without her. Would that be enough to convince her that he really did love her, that he’d sent her away out of fear, not because he didn’t care enough?

  He could only hope it wasn’t too late. He climbed back down to the main room, found his writ
ing case, and filled two pages with apologies and explanations, then crumpled them up and threw them in the stove. A letter would take too long to reach her. He’d caused her too much pain already. He’d go back into town and wire her tomorrow.

  No. He’d give her the time he’d intended to give her, time to realize what her life could be like if she stayed in New York. He started another letter.

  * * *

  Beth woke early with her light cotton nightgown clinging to her skin in the heat. Opening her window didn’t help. A wave of sultry air had settled over New York yesterday, and hadn’t let up in the least overnight.

  She washed, dressed, and headed downstairs. At breakfast, she passed up the toast and coffee for fruit and a glass of iced tea. Isobel did the same. With damp wisps of hair sticking to her forehead, even her cool elegance seemed ready to melt. Beth knew that if she weren’t there, her friend would be in the Adirondacks now. After all Isobel had done for her, that didn’t feel right. “Isobel, I’ve been thinking about your offer to go to the mountains for a little while. This morning, I can’t think of anything I’d like more.” A chance to get away from the city, take some time to think.

  She hadn’t heard a word from Trey since her arrival. Of course, there hadn’t been much time for a letter to reach her and telegrams were expensive, but she hated this feeling of distance, of separation from his world. It made it all the more difficult to see her choices clearly.

  Isobel jumped at the suggestion. “Beth, I knew you’d come around. We’ll make all the arrangements today and leave tomorrow.”

  “Walter won’t mind?”

  “Not at all. As I said, he prefers the city, even in the heat.”

  Beth didn’t comment. As far as she could tell, Walter lived much as he probably had before his marriage. His club, his friends, his parents, golf – other than on the nights he dined at home, he spent little time with Isobel. They went out to the occasional social function, and Beth supposed that they went to the theatre during the season, but she’d seen little real personal interaction between them. As for Michael, she hadn’t seen any contact between him and his father at all.

  The day passed in a flurry of packing and preparation. At the end of it all, the house staff looked ready to melt, and Beth wasn’t far behind them. She took a cool bath before bed, fell into an exhausted sleep, and dreamed of pine woods and a serene blue lake.

  The reality turned out to be as lovely as her dream. The James’ summer place hardly compared to the great camps of New York’s most prominent families, but it was the essence of luxury on a smaller scale and the setting was perfect. Beth walked in the woods, swam, sat with Isobel and Michael by bonfires on the lakeshore. And she decided that this was something she needed. She couldn’t spend all her days in a city, never seeing the stars or feeling the ground beneath her bare feet. That was one reason why she loved Trey’s homestead.

  Did John Caldwell need time away from the city, too? He’d said he wouldn’t choose to live anywhere other than New York, but he’d also said he’d love to see the west. She had a feeling he’d enjoy a place like this as much as she did. A place with all the freedom of Trey’s homestead, without its roughness.

  On her third night at the lake, Beth woke in the small hours and looked out her window to find the shore bathed in moonlight. She couldn’t resist its allure. In her nightgown, she stole out and down to the water’s edge.

  Beautiful. The moon’s reflection blazed a golden trail across the still lake, ringed by the black silhouettes of the pines. Beth touched her toe to the water and found it still warm from the day’s heat. A circle of inviting little ripples spread out across the glassy surface, drawing her in.

  She looked back at the house. If anyone chanced to see her, they’d think her eccentric at best, unforgivably brazen at the worst. This wasn’t Colorado, after all.

  But the impulse wouldn’t be denied. Beth pulled her nightgown off over her head and waded in. The water inched gently up her body, soothing and invigorating at the same time, until it covered her shoulders. Then she swam, reveling in the freedom of swimming without the encumbrance of a bathing-dress. The clean, earthy smell of the water, its silky coolness against her skin… glorious.

  When she didn’t dare stay any longer, she headed for shore and ran, dripping wet, back to the house, wringing the water out of her braid on the way. Why hadn’t she thought to bring a towel?

  She paused on the porch to brush the sand from her feet, then tiptoed back to her room, toweled herself dry and got into her nightgown. Skin still tingling, Beth climbed into bed. Her blood ran quick and light with the exhilaration of her little adventure, and her mind kept pace.

  What would John Caldwell think of her if he knew about this? Would he be as shocked as Walter James, or even Isobel, would be? Somehow, Beth didn’t think so.

  As for Trey, he’d be surprised. He still considered her too much of a lady to do such a thing, but once he got over his surprise he wouldn’t give it a second thought. Beth knew he bathed in the river often enough. Would he – the memory of his kisses made her think he might –give her that slow smile of his, and join her? The thought of that long, lean body of his rising out of the water made her breath catch.

  Yes, her feelings for Trey were real. So were his for her. But could they be enough?

  After another week at the lake, Isobel had to return to the city. She had social obligations to fulfill. Beth hated to go, but she couldn’t put off her own obligations any longer. She had to write to Trey – and what was she going to say to him?

  They arrived back in New York on a rainy evening. Thankfully, the heatwave had broken for the time being. Walter met them at the door, tousled Michael’s hair, and kissed his wife’s cheek. “I’ve missed you, my dear. You look like you’ve had a wonderful time. Beth, there’s mail for you. It’s up in your room. So how did the lake house survive the winter?”

  Beth left Walter and Isobel talking and hurried up to her room. Mail could only mean one of two things – correspondence from Mr. Caldwell about her paintings, or a letter from Trey.

  His script leaped out at her from the envelope on the nightstand. Beth’s pulse started racing. Trey must have written only days after she’d left Wallace Flats for the letter to be reaching her now. Of course, mail moved more quickly now that the rail line to Denver was complete. Beth couldn’t wait long enough to get her letter opener from her writing case, so she tore the envelope open.

  Dear Beth,

  By the time you get this, you’ll have met that man who bought your painting. I hope things are going well for you, and that Isobel is as big a help as you hoped she’d be. You have talent, and you deserve for people to see it.

  As for me, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I knew when you left, things would never be the same here without you. I knew I’d never be the same, but I didn’t think I had a choice. Now I know that the choice should have been yours. It still should be.

  It all comes down to feelings. I love you, Beth. I love you so much that I was scared to death of losing you. That’s why I let you go. I want you in my life, but only if you want me in yours. If you do, we’ll make it work. If you need to spend time in New York, we’ll find the money to get someone to help with the children while you’re away. If Wallace Flats is too far from where you need to be, we can move closer. I could be happy working on a breeding farm in the east, if that’s what it takes. Some place where you’d only be a day from the city by train, instead of a week.

  So, Beth, it’s up to you. If you want to be my real wife, come home. If not, I’ll wish you all the happiness and success in the world, but know this: if you choose me, you’ll be mine for keeps. I’ll never let you out of my heart again.

  Love

  Trey

  Beth’s eyes filled with tears. Trey was willing to give up his homestead – the land he’d sweated over for five years – for the sake of her career. He’d admitted that he’d pushed her away out of fear. She recalled his first letters, sent t
hrough the agency – formal, businesslike. This one was written as if he were speaking to her, straight from his heart.

  It all comes down to feelings. Feelings Beth couldn’t have imagined having before she went to Wallace Flats.

  Now that she thought about it, even her painting had changed, expanded. Would it continue to do so, without the challenge and inspiration of the Colorado landscape? Not in the same way. If she couldn’t succeed from there, she wouldn’t find success in New York, either.

  In the end, her choice made itself. She tucked Trey’s letter back in the envelope and wrote out a message to wire to him in the morning.

  Catching the train tomorrow. What was that line she’d read in Trey’s Whitman? Oh, yes. It fit perfectly.

  Till we two keep together.

  That night Beth sat up in her room with Isobel, side by side on the bed as they’d done so many times in Philadelphia. Beth laid a hand on her friend’s knee. “Isobel, you’ve been a brick. I really can’t thank you enough.”

  The suggestion of wistfulness Beth had seen before showed on Isobel’s face. “You’re welcome. Beth, you might not believe me, but I’m glad you’re happy – even if I don’t understand how you can be.”

  “I know.” Beth looked into Isobel’s eyes. “Are you happy, Isobel?”

  She smiled. “I am. I’ll be frank, dear. I’ve never been in love with Walter the way you seem to be with your Trey. I prefer it that way. I couldn’t afford to let my heart rule my head in the matter of marriage. The stakes were too high. Walter and I like and understand each other.”

  Beth didn’t know what to say. She could so easily have fallen into the same trap of disillusionment, especially after her breakup with Daniel. She felt sorry for Isobel, but worse for the child asleep in the nursery. “And Michael–”

  “I’m fond of my son, Beth. I’ve never had it in me to coo over babies, you know that. All is as it should be for both of us, it seems. And it’s been good to see you again. Keep sending me your work, and I’ll do everything I can for you. So will John Caldwell, I think. You will take care of yourself when you get back to Colorado, won’t you?”