As he read the sad tale of her life—abused by her family, left by her first love, his heart wrenched. The tender letters shared between her and Jacob painted a clear picture of the torment she’d gone through—was still going through—after the war took him.
Images snapped into place in Thomas’s mind. He finally understood what haunted her about this place. She and Jacob had stayed here. That’s why she’d come back here to write about him. It explained so much. Why Thomas often caught her looking longingly at the lake. The thin blue dress that didn’t fit the weather. Her fear of the other guest bedroom. It was the one that overlooked the lake. Their lake—Jacob’s and hers. And now ours, he thought ruefully.
When he finished the last page of her manuscript, Thomas was reeling. He was honored that Cassidy had shared something so private with him. It was so much more than the intimacy of their bodies. These pages contained her soul. And in that moment Thomas felt grateful that fate had stepped in and pushed their two broken hearts on this collision course.
Their meeting hadn’t been a chance encounter. It had been destined. Maybe to make up for what they’d suffered, maybe even before that. But he knew one thing more certain than any other. What he’d read in the deepest shadows that Cassidy kept hidden hadn’t scared him away. He knew now that he belonged to her. And he would never let anything or anyone hurt her again.
Chapter 35
Cassidy
Cassidy sat nervously at the kitchen table gripping her cup of tea. It had long gone cold. But she couldn’t bring herself to move—to do anything other than watch the clock. Thomas had been upstairs with her manuscript for almost four hours.
They were the most excruciating hours of her life.
She found herself dreading any sound. For each creak of the floorboards could be Thomas coming down the stairs to look at her one last time and tell her what she already knew. That she was broken—too broken for him to fix.
The sound of the telephone ringing nearly startled her to death. She overturned her cup of cold tea in her attempt to answer it.
“Hello?” she gasped watching the tea spread across the table, staining the light grains of wood.
“Mr. Crain, please.”
“I’m sorry, Thomas is . . . occupied at the moment. May I help you?”
“I have a message for him. Can you see that he gets it?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“This is Vic Downing. Please let him know that I have the documents he requested prepared. And we have an eager buyer. He’ll need to act quickly to secure the sale. The papers will be at my office awaiting his signature. And ma’am, please express the urgency.”
“Yes. I will. Thank you, Mr. Downing.”
“Good day.”
The line went dead and an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Cassidy’s stomach. Eager buyer? What was Thomas selling? His music? His piano? Knowing him—she found herself surprised by the fact that she did know him—Thomas was going to try to do something heroic to get them out of this mess with the studio.
“Cassidy?”
She whirled at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t heard him come down the stairs and found herself wondering how long he’d been standing there. She was still clutching the phone.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“You first.”
He nodded and moved across the room until he was touching her, tugging the receiver from her hand and hanging it up. He folded her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.
This was goodbye. He was trying to let her down gently. She tried to stop the sobs. She didn’t want to make this any harder for him, but she couldn’t hold back the tears.
“Hey,” he soothed. “What’s wrong?”
She pushed past him, wiping away her tears. “Nothing. It’s fine. I get it. I expected as much anyway. At least now I know.”
“Know what?”
“Just stop, Thomas! You don’t have to be easy on me. I can tell how you feel. It’s written all over your face!”
Thomas paled. “The only thing you should see on my face is love and admiration.” He grabbed her arm. “Cassidy those pages cemented my heart to yours. Thank you for sharing your writing with me. It only proved what I already knew.”
“Which is?”
“That I can’t live without you.”
Relief and laughter overtook Cassidy and then she dissolved to sobs again.
Thomas pulled her into his arms. “Now what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m happy. So very happy.”
Thomas laughed. “You cry when you’re happy, when you’re scared, when you’re mad. Do you think you could write down a guideline for the different types of crying? I’m finding I have trouble decoding it all.”
She swatted him, gazing up at his playful smile. “I’m so relieved. I thought . . . well I thought the worst.”
He kissed her gently. “Did you mean what you said earlier? That you’d trust whatever decision I made after I read your manuscript?”
She nodded.
“Then trust this as truth. I am hopelessly, insufferably in love with you, Cassidy Clark. And, God willing, I will spend the rest of my days proving it to you.”
She wrapped her arms around him and let him sweep her off her feet, their kisses deepening as hope and relief swelled through her. Thomas started to carry her back toward his bedroom when she remembered the phone call.
“Wait! You had a phone call.”
“It can wait.” Thomas’s voice was heavy as he set her on the bed, pulling off his shirt.
“No. Mr. Downing said it’s urgent.”
Thomas paused. Stiffening at the mention of the man’s name. “What did he say?” he asked cautiously.
“That he has your paperwork ready to sign. You just need to go to his office. And quickly if you want to secure your eager buyer.”
Thomas scrubbed at his face and stood. He began pacing the room. “This is good news,” he said, but his tense posture implied otherwise.
“Thomas, what are you selling?”
He kept pacing as though he hadn’t heard Cassidy’s voice through the turmoil that had taken over his features.
Cassidy sat up on the bed and reached out to take his hand. “Thomas?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you selling?”
“My farm.”
“What? But you said it’s your favorite place.”
He sat down on the bed next to her, still holding her hand. “My new favorite place is right here next to you.”
“I don’t understand. Why are you selling it so suddenly?”
“I need the money to pay back the airtime and buy out the radio contract.”
“But we haven’t even talked about that yet!”
“What is there to talk about? Do you really want to broadcast our private lives on the radio? Because that’s what they want?”
Cassidy shook her head. “No. Not that part of it. But what about your music? The world deserves to hear it.”
“They don’t want my music,” he said with a sadness that broke her heart. “They want us . . . our staged love affair.”
“But your music is what built us. How do you know that’s not part of what they love? You only heard one lousy executive’s perspective. Maybe—”
Thomas put a soothing hand on Cassidy’s cheek. “Cassidy. I love you for trying to find a way out of this. I really do. But it all comes down to this. Do you want to spend the next two years being owned by some network? Stuck in a studio, doing whatever they want, whenever they want? Or do you want to build a life together on our own terms?”
She leaned in and kissed Thomas deeply. “That’s not even a choice.”
“Then this is the only way. If I can pay for the airtime then WOR won’t have a leg to stand on. They can try to sue for impersonation, but Mr. Downing’s a good attorney, and he says it won’t stand up. WOR won’t risk exposing the underhanded way we ended up on air.”
“Thomas,
I agree with you about not wanting our private life on air, but there has to be some other way.”
“Believe me, Cassidy, if there was another way that would work I would take it in a heartbeat. But we’re running out of time. The snowstorm has already bought us all the extra time we can afford. I need to take this opportunity while I can.”
“I don’t want you to have to sell your family’s farm. I know it means something to you.”
“It did. But I haven’t been back there in over a year. It’s time that I take my own advice and let go of the past so I can move forward, with you.”
Cassidy’s heart broke for Thomas, but she couldn’t think of a better way out. The best thing she could offer him was to shoulder the burden along with him and try to ease his pain.
“Your sacrifices won’t go unnoticed with me,” she whispered as she pulled his hand to her mouth, tracing a kiss across his knuckles.
Thomas gave her a smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes.
Cassidy decided it would be her solitary goal to make Thomas forget this painful decision and she wouldn’t stop until his true smile returned. The one that lit up his face and erased his scars. The one that made him the man she loved.
She pushed him back on the bed, pulling off her dress as she straddled him. Thomas raised himself up on his elbows, trying to reach her, but she pushed him back down.
“It’s your turn to let go,” she whispered.
He stopped objecting when Cassidy unbuttoned his pants and let his throbbing erection spring free. Cassidy’s mouth went dry at the sight of him. She wanted him inside her—every rigid inch of him. But she would wait. This was about him. And making him feel worshipped—making him forget what he was about to do and thanking him for what he’d already done.
Thomas gripped the sheets as Cassidy took control of him with her hands. She slithered further down his body to admire his unyielding length fully. The flick of her tongue over his tip sent him writhing. She caressed his broad shaft with her tongue, grazing her teeth over his delicate skin. Leaning closer still, she took him in her mouth—all of him. He tensed, groaning her name over and over as she drove him toward the edge. She caressed him with her mouth until he was slick and pulsing. And she didn’t stop until he shattered apart, taking all of his broken pieces with him.
Chapter 36
Thomas
When Thomas awoke he found their reprieve was over. The snow had melted overnight, taking with it his sense of security. Cassidy groaned when Thomas crawled from under the sheets.
“Where are you going?” she whined.
“To town. To take care of things.”
Cassidy propped herself up on her elbows. “Let me take you,” she said wiping the sleep from her eyes.
Thomas chuckled. “My love, have you forgotten your truck is half submerged in your favorite lake?”
“Oh . . .” she murmured as her shroud of sleep dissipated.
“Besides, I’ve seen your driving. I think I’ll be safer in a cab.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Thomas leaned down and planted a tender kiss on her nose, then her lips. “Thank you, but I think this is something I need to do alone.”
She nodded.
He settled the covers back over her. “It’s early still. Go back to sleep. And I’ll be home before you know it.”
Thomas’s stomach was in knots the whole ride to town. He made polite conversation with the cab driver but wished the chatty old man would just shut up. The sound of his voice was grating on Thomas’s already frayed nerves.
In his heart, Thomas knew selling the farm was the right decision. He hadn’t been back there in over a year and if he was honest, he didn’t really want to go back. The farm wasn’t the same now that his parents were gone. It didn’t feel like home anymore. It held too many ghosts. And even after packing up his parents’ belongings, the house was still haunted by their memories. It probably always would be.
Thomas was discovering that places had a habit of absorbing the very essence of their inhabitants—filling the shadows with bits and pieces of the souls that had once wandered there. The farmhouse was full of his parents’ memories and perhaps that’s why it was so hard to let it go. But selling it was inevitable. Thomas knew he was finally doing what he should have done already—moving forward.
A small, grateful smile found its way to Thomas’s face. He had Cassidy to thank for it. He never would have found the strength to cut himself free of his painful past if it weren’t for her. She was an angel—his angel. Selling the farm couldn’t even be classified as sacrifice, not if it meant he and Cassidy could have a life together—a future. Memories from the night before floated back to him, filling his heart with a rare kind of joy that threatened to split him apart.
Good God, last night . . . The things Cassidy had done to him—for him. Her mouth on him . . . Thomas had to push the scintillating thoughts away for fear that he’d embarrass himself when he got out of the cab.
He swallowed hard, focusing on the bursting feeling in his chest. So this was love. Gene had been right about one thing. ‘When you know, you know.’ And Thomas knew without a shadow of a doubt, Cassidy was his one and only. And he was quite certain there was nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice for her.
When he finally arrived in town, Thomas paid his driver and stepped out of the cab with confidence—for once excited about the future.
Chapter 37
Cassidy
The day dragged on for Cassidy. She found herself growing more anxious by the minute, constantly looking to the door, hoping to see Thomas. She already showered and packed her clothes like he instructed in the note he’d left her. Packing had only taken Cassidy a matter of minutes since her belongings were still in the suitcase she’d thrown out when she thought she wouldn’t be needing her possessions anymore. She’d even repacked them a bit more neatly to kill time. But still it dragged on without word from Thomas.
The house was quiet. No reporters had shown up yet. Thomas told her to keep the doors locked just in case. He was expecting Mr. Cranston from the radio station to return any day, and possibly with the police if his threats were to be believed. Thomas had asked Cassidy to pack his things if it wasn’t too much trouble so they could leave together once he returned.
But where would they even go? Not back to the farm she had hoped to one day see. Not if Thomas went through with selling it. They couldn’t go back to her place. Helen had found it for Cassidy and it felt wrong to show up there with another man—even if she knew deep down Helen only wanted to see Cassidy find happiness. But Cassidy had no desire to stay in the small town that had stifled her all those years. She was ready to see the world.
She took a steadying breath and decided not to worry about the specifics. The where didn’t really matter to Cassidy as long as she and Thomas were together.
Cassidy finished packing Thomas’s clothes and moved on to his music. She was collecting his folders of sheet music when one of his many notebooks slipped off the desk, falling open on the floor. Dozens of pages slid out of the overturned book, scattering across the floor. Cassidy sighed as she gathered up the papers. She was busy making a mental note to teach Thomas the benefits of organization when the words on a particular page caught her attention. She unfolded the paper—handwritten sheet music, with their words on them.
Love, how she haunts this home
Leaves us weary to the bone
A wretched thing to spoil dreams
Don’t you know I have them too
And I crave them just as deep as you
If you let go, I’ll let go too
And you can hold on to me
Darkness slips like the soul
I barely remember the touches I stole
Those memories come slow
But someday they will fade
And we will find a way
Something sturdy to hold on to
Hold on to me
The gift I see in you
&
nbsp; I fear it can’t be real
If only you could see it too
Could believe we could be true
Until then I hold you in my dreams
I promise not to let you go
Just hold on to me
For you I built a home
I built it from flesh and bone
But it wasn’t enough
All that’s left has turned to dust
And now it’s time to wake
Time to let go
Darling hold on to me
You could never give up the ashes
But I won’t ask you to
I can be patient with your heart
Remember that I will hold you
I won’t let you fall
You can let go
Love hold on to me
Darling I know where you belong
You could never hide your scars
I could make you happy
I could make you dream
I can wake your heart
Just let go, darling
Hold on to me
Life won’t guarantee goodbye
But darling, still I try.
I hear your silent words
I’ve searched for you all my life
Never doubt what grace tore apart
Just let go
Just hold on to me
Love is cold and broken
But love never truly dies
It cannot be replaced
Though heartbeats retraced
This could be worth it
There’s something to repair
Just hold on to me
My soul touched with your first breath
Your heart calls out to mine
In the darkness between the stars
Before your final goodnight
Know that I will fight for you
For you I come alive
Please hold on for me
Cassidy’s hand flew to her fluttering heart. Thomas had created a song from her words. Some from the poem they’d spent a week silently passing to each other, and some . . . well they were the words her heart spoke—her memoir. Thomas had memorized lines from her manuscript and lovingly wove them through his handwritten waves of music.
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