by Stacy Henrie
“I’m going to cut wood for a hotel,” Nellie announced, sitting up to the desk. She grabbed his pen and a nearby pad of paper and began writing out her own version of a contract. It was her favorite game when she came to his office.
“That will require a lot of wood. And when do they need all that lumber?”
Her brow furrowed again. “Tomorrow. What is the day tomorrow?”
Wyatt glanced at the calendar once more, but as he rattled off the date for Nellie, a sudden jolt of realization shot through him. Tomorrow was the day he and Loralee had promised to meet.
“Is something wrong, Daddy Wyatt?” Nellie stared up at him, her brown eyes wide.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” he said absently. Should he go to Bayocean? Would Loralee be there? Eight years was a long time, and yet, if there was the slightest chance that she hadn’t found someone either . . . He glanced down at Nellie, who had returned to her “work.” Whomever he married would have to accept his niece as a daughter. The two of them were bound together now. And yet, would someone as established in her career as Loralee Love wish to be an instant mother?
He couldn’t say, but the thought of seeing her again, of speaking with her, filled him with a hope he hadn’t entertained in years. To every thing there is a season, he repeated in his mind. Maybe this would be his and Loralee’s season.
“What if we go to the ocean for our vacation this year?”
Nellie spun to face him. “Oh, yes. I love the ocean.”
“Me too,” Wyatt agreed with a chuckle. “How does that sound, Mrs. Harper?”
The woman smiled. “Quite lovely, sir.”
“When will we go?” Nellie begged.
Making a decision, he scooped her up as he climbed to his feet, eliciting a happy squeal from her. “How about tomorrow?”
• • •
Bayocean, Oregon, Summer 1914: Eight years earlier
Wyatt whistled to himself as he strolled away from the hotel. Today was Loralee’s day off and he was meeting her in front of her bungalow. She’d progressed far enough in her swimming that she wanted to try out the ocean this afternoon.
Spending time with Loralee the last three weeks had been the highlight of his vacation and the highlight of his year. He’d enjoyed teaching her how to swim and seeing her confidence grow, not only in her abilities but also in herself. She no longer refused to meet his gaze when they spoke, which meant Wyatt had lots of opportunities to look into her beautiful blue eyes.
He had yet to introduce her to his father, and he hoped to put it off as long as possible. Not because he didn’t think Loralee the greatest girl he’d ever met. He simply hoped to stay the row between him and his father that would follow such an introduction. Mr. Noble made no pretense about who he wanted his son to marry—a lady of social standing and breeding. And while there were a number of young women vacationing in Bayocean this year who fit that description, none of them elicited the admiration Wyatt felt for Loralee.
His sister had already married the son of another logging tycoon, and while Wyatt respected his brother-in-law, he wasn’t blind to the reality that the marriage had been built on mutual interests rather than love. And whatever his father might say or demand, Wyatt wished to spend his days with a woman he loved.
Approaching Loralee’s bungalow, he overheard someone singing. It only took a few seconds to realize it was Loralee. He stopped to listen, intent on waiting only a moment or two before knocking, but he found himself completely caught up in the magic of her melodic soprano voice. It reached inside him, laying bare all his former heartaches and pains, and then binding them up with fervent hope.
He was still standing there, enveloped in the spell of her singing, when she opened the door. “Wyatt,” she said, smiling. “I thought I’d poke my head out and see if you were here.”
Shaking himself back to the present, he nodded. “I’ve been here for a few minutes.”
“You mean you heard . . .” She blushed.
He stepped toward her. “I didn’t know you sang.”
Her blush deepened. “It’s just something I pass the time with.”
“Loralee, you have an amazing singing voice.” He stopped beside her and took her hand in his. “Better than anything I’ve heard before.”
She smirked until she seemed to understand he spoke in earnest. “Thank you, but it isn’t as if there’s any sort of job in it for me.” Swinging her towel over her shoulder, she tugged him forward. “The ocean awaits.”
“But you could make a go at singing,” he said, unwilling to let it lie. He was no expert when it came to singing, but even he recognized she had real talent. “How else do you think the men and women who sing in those clubs get started?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been to a club or a musical performance.” They struck up an easy stride, her hand still clasped in his. After a few moments of quiet, she turned to him, an inquisitive expression on her face. “You really think I have a voice for performing?”
He chuckled, bumping her shoulder with his. “I know it. I was awestruck just listening to you.”
She bumped him back. “Perhaps it’s something to think about”—she wagged a finger at him—“but only to think about, mind you. My life is here now and I’m content with that.”
They talked of other things as they wound their way to the beach. When they reached the water, Loralee dropped her towel on the sand and took off at a run for the waves. “You ready to go in?” she called over her shoulder, an echo of the words he’d said to her that first evening at the natatorium.
Her radiant smile hit him square in the heart, and Wyatt knew in that moment that, unlike her, he would likely never be content again. Not when he would have to say good-bye to Loralee for good at the end of the summer.
Chapter 4
Bayocean, Oregon, August 1922
In spite of a light drizzle the next day, Loralee ventured forth from the hotel. Her cloche hat kept her hair mostly dry and she didn’t mind the damp on her cheeks. She wasn’t the only one out and about either. Even with the less-than-ideal weather, there were plenty of people outdoors, enjoying the resort town. Loralee moved among them, grateful when no one seemed to recognize her. Today she wanted to get lost in the crowd.
She made her way to the bungalows and wandered past the one she’d once lived in. The afternoon Wyatt heard her sing played through her mind. He’d recognized her gift long before she had. His words of encouragement that day had inspired her with the self-assurance to eventually accept Henry’s offer to make singing her new life.
The beach, the natatorium, the dance hall pavilion—each place held such treasured memories. The smell of the ocean and the tug of the breeze reminded her of the many walks she and Wyatt had taken along this stretch of beach. Would they ever do so again? She wanted to believe he would come today—that if free to do so, he would keep his promise. But she had no assurances. While she was a well-known singer now, he was still the son, and owner, of a very prosperous logging company. Perhaps his father had succeeded, before his death, in convincing Wyatt that he would do better to marry someone of similar social standing. The Loves might be well-enough off, but they weren’t pretentious. They’d never been anything less than genuine, honest, and eager to surround themselves with people of sincerity. Loralee wanted to believe the same was still true of Wyatt, and yet, eight years was a long time.
She wandered the town the better part of the day, reliving the bittersweet memories that were as entrenched in this place as the salt and the spray. If she kept away from the hotel, she wouldn’t have to know just yet whether he’d chosen to come or not.
By late afternoon though, Loralee could stay away no longer. It was time to prepare for her performance.
“We are looking forward to hearing from you tonight, Miss Love,” the same exuberant clerk called out as she passed by.
She inclined her head and smiled. “I’m looking forward to performing.”
“Oh, and Mr. Noble still h
as not checked in. I thought you’d wish to know.”
Sadness settled in her chest, making it hard to hold her smile. He still hadn’t come. He would if he could, she reminded herself. Which meant he must be attached or married. And it was no surprise. She’d never met another man like Wyatt, even through all of her travels and performances.
Straightening her shoulders, she smiled kindly at the clerk. “Thank you for letting me know.” She would give the best performance she could in this place she’d loved, and in the morning she would leave. And do her best to forget the man she’d loved.
• • •
Bayocean, Oregon, Summer 1914: Eight years earlier
“Loralee”—Wyatt held her closer as they danced to the music—“are you still crying?”
Her chin bobbed up and down against his shirt, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. The dance pavilion, crude as it might look on the outside, was full of other enamored couples. But he felt as if they were dancing alone—the only two people in the world, encircled in a cloud of sadness and falling hopes.
“Is it about my father?”
Loralee nodded again, this time sniffling. “He doesn’t like me, Wyatt.”
“It’s your bank account he doesn’t like,” he countered bitterly.
He’d been unable to put off the dreaded introduction any longer. His father had demanded to meet the girl whom his son had been spending all of his time with for the last month and a half. Loralee had met Wyatt on the terrace where his father, sister, and brother-in-law were taking in the air. To her credit she hadn’t cowed one bit. Instead she’d acted with grace and confidence, all the while looking his father in the eye.
Mr. Noble had asked to speak with Wyatt in private, but the man’s words had easily carried to where Loralee stood waiting at one end of the veranda. “Have you lost your senses? She’s a servant at a hotel. Not a young lady suitable to spending time with the future heir and owner of Noble Logging.”
Wyatt straightened to his full height, giving him a few inches over his father. “Be that as it may, I won’t stop seeing her.”
“You would defy me?” his father roared.
“Only if you make me choose between the two of you, for the remainder of this trip.”
His father’s eyes narrowed. “So you will give her up once we leave?”
Everything in him wanted to answer no. But he wouldn’t lead Loralee on with false promises for the future. She was still too young to marry at present and his father had been tutoring him to take over the logging business for more than a year now. He couldn’t turn his back on his family. “Yes, you have my word.”
Loralee heard the entire conversation, and while she expressed understanding of the situation, she remained as visibly troubled as Wyatt felt. He had hoped dancing would cheer them both up, but his heart wasn’t in it either.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said, stepping back.
Tears trailed her cheeks, though she braved a smile. “That sounds nice.”
Outside the pavilion, away from the music, the crashing waves could once again be heard. The moon shone overhead, lighting up the water. Mindful of her shoes, he led her a short distance across the sand and took a seat. Loralee sank down beside him. He put his arm around her shoulders. There wouldn’t be many more nights like this. The realization filled him with intense sadness. He didn’t want to imagine his life without Loralee. And yet, he knew he needed to.
Give me strength, Lord, to do and say the right thing. A nudge deep inside pushed words to his tongue that he’d contemplated saying for more than a week or two. “I love you, Loralee. And I’d love nothing more than to marry you right now, impossible as that may be.”
She lifted her chin, her blue eyes dark and shining. “I love you too, Wyatt.”
He tightened his arm around her as she nestled her head against him again. Letting her go from his life would be every bit as painful as losing his mother to sickness and then to death.
“I’m glad we still have a week,” she murmured.
Only a week before he said good-bye to her forever. Unless . . . Wyatt twisted around on the sand so he faced her. Her brows rose in silent question. “What if we meet, right here?”
“What do you mean?” She shook her head in confusion.
He was thinking fast now, his plan forming as he voiced it. “What if in . . . let’s say eight years . . . when you’re all grown up and I’m getting old . . .” He got the smile he’d been hoping for with that remark. “We meet back here at Bayocean.”
“But what if one of us should be married by then or has a sweetheart?”
Wyatt couldn’t imagine ever loving anyone else, but he wasn’t a fool. Loralee would likely be scooped up the minute she turned eighteen. “If neither of us is attached or married by then, we’ll meet right back here.”
Her mouth quirked up in a half smile. He could tell she was warming to the idea. “What day?”
“Today. Eight years from this day.”
“It’ll be 1922 in eight years,” she said with a voice tinged with wonder.
Surely it would feel like eighty years to him, but he would be here. He felt certain of that. “So do you agree, Loralee Brown? Will you meet me here on this day in 1922 if you are not otherwise engaged or married?”
“Yes.” Her expression registered her quiet determination. “I will. And will you agree to meet me here, Wyatt Noble, on this day in 1922 if you are not otherwise engaged or married?”
Wyatt held her face between his hands. “Most assuredly, yes,” he stated emphatically. Then he pressed his lips lightly to hers. Loralee breathed the softest of sighs, encouraging him to kiss her fully. It was the first time he’d kissed her, though not the first time he’d entertained the idea of doing so. The reality of it was twice as splendid as he’d imagined.
The kiss solidified something he’d known, nearly since their first accidental meeting—he would not forget Loralee. And he hoped that she would not forget him either.
• • •
Bayocean, Oregon, August 1922
Loralee looked out at the crowded room, her heartbeat kicking up faster beneath her beaded evening gown. Everything was ready for her performance. The musicians were in position and she had taken extra care in arranging her hair and her elaborate headband. Wyatt, though, was nowhere to be seen. Which meant he wasn’t coming. A wave of sadness set her stomach churning even more.
The nameless faces stared back as the hotel manager announced her. She searched the room more closely, her gaze stopping on a mother and daughter waving at her from one of the tables. Loralee recognized them as the ones she’d chatted with on the ferry. Their smiles eased some of her nervousness and she offered a small wave back.
It was time. Stepping up to the microphone, she smiled. “Thank you all for coming this evening. It is my deepest pleasure to be in Bayocean. I have many fond memories from my time here, years ago, and I hope tonight’s performance will be a happy memory for each of you.”
With a nod to the musicians, the room filled with the notes of her first song. Loralee waited for her entrance, her eyes sweeping the audience once more. A latecomer and his daughter drew her attention. Removing his hat to reveal brown hair, the man took a seat at the back table. At the moment she was supposed to begin singing, her gaze locked with his across the crowd. Loralee’s breath caught in her throat. It was Wyatt. Looking older and more distinguished, yes, but she knew that face.
He came! Her pulse thudded faster, horribly out of step with the languid music. The realization that Wyatt had kept his promise was quickly followed by the recollection that he wasn’t alone. Even as she watched, the girl he’d led into the room climbed onto his lap, her cheeks lifted in a grin. Wyatt had a daughter. Did that mean he also had a wife? Loralee mentally shook her head in confusion. He wasn’t supposed to come if he was married.
Only then did she realize the musicians had repeated the opening bar of the song. She’d missed her cue. Feeling herself blush, she tilted
her chin upward and opened her mouth to begin. Her voice carried across the space, sounding far more confident than she felt. Whatever her questions about Wyatt, she would at least have them answered in person when the performance was over. Channeling that hopeful emotion, she sang with all of her heart.
Chapter 5
Oblivious to nearly everything else around him, Wyatt gazed openly at Loralee. He could hardly believe she stood only half a room away from him after all of these years.
“Who is that, Daddy Wyatt?” Nellie whispered in his ear.
“Her name is Loralee Love,” he answered softly. “She is a famous singer . . . and someone I knew a long time ago.”
“She’s very pretty.”
Wyatt murmured agreement. Loralee’s lovely face, her blue eyes, her blond hair, worn short now, was so familiar to him. As if it were only yesterday they’d been wandering through Bayocean, laughing and talking, and not nearly a decade ago.
Her soprano voice still held the power to enthrall. One glance at the audience members around him was proof of the way she could command their rapt attention with her singing. He’d seen pictures of her in the newspaper, but seeing her in person, he could hardly believe the girl he’d known eight years ago was now a star.
“Daddy Wyatt, did you love her?”
He pulled his focus from Loralee to his niece. “What do you mean?”
“You look at her like you look at me. And I know you love me.”
Giving her a squeeze, he cleared his throat of emotion before he could speak. “You are right, Nellie girl. I do love you.” He lifted his eyes to Loralee again. “And yes, I did love her.”
I still do, he thought. The realization didn’t jolt him as much as he’d expected. Isn’t that why he’d come? To see if he felt the same? There was no doubt in his mind of the answer now. He hadn’t yet spoken to her, but his feelings hadn’t changed. If anything, they’d grown in the eight long years of being apart.