Her fingers interlocked with his. “I wanted to sit with you. You looked so unhappy.”
“Yeah, well...” It was ancient history. The bus came. He’d moved on.
Another picture showed him at his Marine Corps boot camp graduation. Again it was taken at a distance, but that was odd. USMC graduations weren’t open to the public.
“Who took this one?”
“Peter,” Gracie replied, her head on his shoulder. “He was the only one who could get on base. Camp Lejeune, I think.”
“Yeah. Lejeune.” Taylor continued with picture after picture. They’d known where he was most of his life. He wasn’t stalked. He was loved.
“Why didn’t Peter ever approach me while I was at Lejeune? Why didn’t any of you let me know you were out there? It would’ve helped.”
“Because your father filed a restraining order against Peter. Then my mother. Peter tried to keep track of your deployments, but there were fewer opportunities to reach out to you once you joined the Corps. They kept you very busy.”
“You could’ve written.”
“I did,” she whispered. “So did Peter. We couldn’t get through to you. Every letter came back unknown at this address.”
Dear old Dad sure had a stranglehold on him all these years. The bastard.
“Why didn’t you look for your mother’s family?” Gracie asked.
“Because until now, I thought they were glad to get rid of me. That I was the half-breed no one wanted. Least that’s the story I heard.” Over and over.
“And you believed him?” Gracie asked, her fingers so damned gentle on his cheek again.
Tears sprang to his eyes, betraying him. He choked on a lifetime of lies. “Sure. Why not? Why would anyone want a kid... like me?”
She pressed his face under her chin. He wanted to stay right there, listening to her heart beat for the rest of his life. The steady rhythm of it smoothed the rough edges away and filled the deepest nooks and crannies of his soul where hate and anger had grown for so long. He took a cleansing breath. Something was happening to him all because of that heart beat.
“Your family never stopped loving you, Taylor.”
He waited, wondering if she’d included herself in that family. It was too soon, but he was pretty sure she didn’t hold every guy like this. Not Gracie.
He eased out of her arms, needing to stiffen his spine and stop falling apart every couple minutes. The L word was not one he’d used in his life. It meant too much, and to be honest, he’d never heard it in his home. Not once. Not on birthdays or graduations. He’d never said it either. Didn’t know how to.
He gave the album back. “Here. Take it.”
“No. It’s yours. I’ve just been keeping it until you came home.”
He set it aside on the chair next to him, needing some serious time to absorb the change in his life. Hell. If he’d stayed in the White Hawk family, he might not have become a Marine. He’d be someone else. His father had seriously hosed him. “Thanks, Gracie.”
The sun cast shadows across the grassy lawn as the afternoon waned. A sweet breeze blew in from the trees, its fragrance full of wildflowers and fresh air. All around and overhead, birds flitted in search of food and nest-making materials. One particularly brave sparrow landed near Buford. The snoring dog didn’t budge when the bird made off with a tuft of loose fur from the tip of his tail.
“I have a crazy family.”
“All families are crazy,” Gracie whispered. “They struggle. They fight. But if they love each other the way your grandfather and uncles love you, I think it’s okay to be a little crazy.”
“Where’d Luke run off to?” he asked, diverting the subject.
She seemed intent on championing the White Hawks, but what were her personal feelings for him in this mixed up mess? He wanted to know, but he didn’t at the same time. Relationships were complicated. Case in point—his mother’s family. Gracie might care about them, but still want to keep her distance. Who could blame her?
“He went into town with Matthew to buy a new tire for your truck. We’ve thrown a whole different world at you, haven’t we?”
Nodding toward the album, he tried to sort his feelings. “I don’t remember some of those pictures, but the ones at school just plain suck. I’m glad to see them, but I hated every day of military school. Hell, I think I even hated the Corps sometimes. I always knew I’d join. Never thought I had a choice.”
Her hand sought his, intertwining with his fingers. He lifted the joined puzzle of their hands and pressed it against his chest before he continued. “Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t trade being a Marine for anything, but I can honestly say I’ve been one all of my life. It’s all I know.”
A smile broke over her lips. “Oh, no. You’re more than a Marine, Taylor. You’re an artist. Look at your homes. You’ve taken some of the most dilapidated buildings and turned them into masterpieces.”
“You’ve seen one of my projects?” He was particularly proud of restoring the old colonials around D.C. Elegant and elderly, they shouldn’t have been allowed to rot and mildew like old clothes. They deserved better.
“I’ve seen the one on Massachusetts Avenue, and I like the one you’re working on now. It’s my favorite so far.” She glanced over her shoulder, toward the steam rising from the smoker. “I need to check the turkey. Help me?”
“You bet.”
He lifted them out of the chair together, setting her on her feet. The domestic nature of their interaction warmed him. While she pulled the sweet potato casserole and a bread pudding out of the oven, he moved the turkey from the smoker to a platter, then inside to the kitchen table.
Just as he finished slicing the turkey, a diesel rattled up the drive and parked at Gracie’s front porch. Luke and Matthew were back.
The door opened. Alarm shifted over Luke’s face when he saw Taylor standing there. “I thought you’d be resting. I’ve been in town to fix the tire for your truck.”
“I’m done resting. What’s going on? Where’s Grandfather?”
The other man approached Taylor carefully. “Taylor. Is it really you?”
Luke made a quick introduction. “Taylor, this is Matthew. Your other uncle.”
Matthew took Taylor’s face between his calloused hands, turning his head to the right and left. “None of us thought we’d ever see you again, but here you are.”
Taylor stowed his angry questions. Here he was again, the long lost child welcomed home by another tearful male member of his family. He couldn’t stay angry. Apparently, his uncles showed their emotions as quickly as they shot guys through open truck windows.
It wasn’t until a muffled sob broke free from Matthew’s throat that Taylor realized the depth of his uncle’s pain. He tightened his hold around the older fellow, absorbing some of the trembling. “I’ve never hugged so damned many men in my whole life,” he teased.
“Oh, my gosh. Did you just make a joke?” Gracie rolled her big brown eyes.
He winked over his uncle’s shoulder at her. Sheesh. This family never gave a guy a break.
“I’m sorry to be such an old man,” Matthew said, releasing him. “Let’s eat.”
“’S okay,” Taylor said while they settled around Gracie’s kitchen table “I’m getting used to it.”
Matthew took the chair next to him, filling a plate.
“So tell me where he is,” Taylor said once his stomach was full and his uncles had eaten their fair share.
Luke shifted back in his chair. “Quantico, we think.”
“Coffee?” Gracie asked.
“Quantico? Why?” Taylor held his cup for her to fill. The simple gesture did not escape his notice. This woman seemed comfortable serving others, a rare trait among the other women of her generation.
“Because that’s where Crosland Webster is,” Matthew replied. “I know because I followed your team after the Mayor asked your boss to protect my sister’s murderer. That’s where I’ve been all this time. It makes sense Father’s t
here, too. Maybe even inside the gates by now.”
“Where on Quantico?”
Matthew shrugged. “You tell me. I can’t get onto the installation. I have no clearance.”
Taylor felt for his wallet, already knowing it wasn’t in his back pocket. That little detail checked the trust he’d placed maybe a little too quickly in his uncles. Yes, they were family, but the fact remained. They had his truck, his I.D. and his weapon. He’d need more than boots to apprehend or help his grandfather.
Maybe it was time to step back for a moment and take better stock of the situation. Maybe it was time to make a break for it and contact Alex after all. Call in the cavalry. The Marines.
Gracie’s giggle drew him back to the conversation around the table. The light in her eyes damned near brought his plan to a screeching halt. She trusted him. Could he betray her after all they’d shared?
Do I want to?
Chapter Nineteen
That man is thinking way too much. He’s quiet. Too quiet.
Gracie eyed Taylor across the table. Luke and Matthew had sandwiched him between them for the dinner, but somewhere during the conversation, Taylor pulled back. He’d answered Luke and Matthew’s queries and commented at all the right breaks in conversation, but he’d leaned back in his seat. He’d gone from open to guarded. Watchful.
He’s leaving.
Her heart thudded, missing a beat. It made sense and it felt right, but would he leave after all that had happened between them earlier? The photos? Their intimate sharing of feelings and emotions? Martha’s lullaby?
She gulped, her throat dry and a bevy of butterflies let loose in her stomach. Yes. That’s exactly what he’ll do. He’s trained to put his mission first. He’s been trained all of his life to leave. Just like his father.
“Did you happen to make sweet potato pie to go along with this feast?” Matthew asked. He and Luke hadn’t seemed to notice Taylor’s withdrawal from the camaraderie, yet.
The thought of eating anything, even pie, twisted her gut. “Umm, I made bread pudding, but, if you don’t mind, I think I need to take a walk first. I haven’t eaten this much in ages, and I—” I should’ve told him I love him when I showed him the pictures. He needs to know.
Luke elbowed her. “Probably not since last Christmas. Am I right?”
She nodded, covering her suspicions with a false smile. “Oh, yes. For sure. Taylor? Would you walk with me?”
“You bet,” he replied, pushing away from the table. Always the gentleman. Always her friend. God, she didn’t want to take her eyes off of him. He stood tall and proud, returning his chair to its proper place, so much the gentleman she’d always known he was. There’d be no stopping him if he insisted on leaving, but it would break her. All of her.
She latched onto the battery-operated lantern she kept at her front door. I have to get out of here before I fall apart.
“Where are we going?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling right behind her.
Shivers raced up her spine at the deep baritone. What could she say to make him stay? She knew, but guilt for the truth she hadn’t yet revealed stuck in her throat. Would he still believe she loved him after he found out who’d really shot him with that arrow? “Thought I’d visit Martha and Mary. It’s a short walk. Do you mind?”
“Funny you should ask. I’ve been thinking of them. Let me get that for you. ” He snagged the lantern and opened the screen door. “After you, Gracie.”
Ah, her name on his lips. Another shiver rippled up her back, and she reached for his free hand, ready to beg him to stay in she needed to. Instead, she offered a smile. The time had come. She would tell him at the cemetery. Before he left, he had to know she loved him with her whole heart. Every beat of it. Every breath and every second of every day.
“You’re quiet. Anything wrong?”
“You’re quiet, too. What are you thinking?” She matched his step.
“Just that it’s been a long day. Guess I’m tired. Still recuperating, too.”
He’d smoothly dodged that question. Sunset lingered in the western sky with the last of its rosy glow. She sighed at the gentle touch of nature around them, the evening chorus of birdsong in the darkening shadows, wanting to believe Taylor was simply tired.
It didn’t take long to get to the headstones. Gracie sat between the graves and patted the ground next to her, determined to share her heart with this handsome, amazing man.
It seemed too soon. She and Luke had dumped so much incredibly painful information on him the past few days, maybe too much. Would this last declaration push him away or draw him in closer? She honestly didn’t know.
Her heart pounded with the words bursting to be voiced. I love you so much I can’t live without you. Never again. Not for one more second. Don’t go. Take me with you if you must leave.
He joined her between Martha and Mary’s headstones, sitting in silence, brooding. It had proven to be another hard day for him.
She nudged his arm and pointed to the tall grasses at the edge of the road, gathering courage. Insect lights blinked on and off in a sparkling mist while darkness settled over the cemetery. “Tell me what you see.”
He followed the direction of her index finger. “Hmm. Over there? Looks like bugs to me.”
She leaned back onto the grass, her eyes filling with emotion. Leave it to him to see nothing more than bugs. He stretched alongside her, one arm behind his head for a cushion. More and more stars beckoned while the fireflies danced, glittering on and off everywhere.
“Not just bugs. When I was little, my mom told me a story. Fireflies are more like fallen stars than insects. Our ancestors sent them to help light our way back home when we get lost. If we believe, those flashing lights will tell us where to step in this dangerous world and who to trust.” Like me. Trust me, Taylor. I know I’ve lied, but please. Give me another chance.
She trembled, frozen on the brink of heartache or salvation, she didn’t know which. Either he’d reject her once and for all and leave anyway, or he’d understand. Brushing an errant tear off her cheek, Gracie reached for his fingers, thankful for the easy way he opened his hand to accept hers. That helped. “I know it’s just a story, but wouldn’t it be nice if it were true? Then you’d always be surrounded by the people who loved you the most.”
“Tell me more.”
“Do you know what exists between fact and fairy tales?”
“Fireflies and ancestors?” he teased, jumpstarting her heart. Giving her courage.
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, and me, too. The world isn’t black and white. I think each of us gets to choose what to believe, don’t you? We get to decide who we want in our life. Who we love.” She scooted halfway onto his chest, and looked down into his face, her hair draping them both.
Like the man he was, he worked both hands into her back pockets and pulled her onto his hips. The warmth of their very intimate position filled her belly with a rush of heat. Mary and Martha wouldn’t mind witnessing her declaration of love to this man, would they?
Her heart stuttered, and with the gentlest sigh, she kissed his lips deliberately and slowly, pouring her heart into the man she loved. Her tongue skimmed the tip of his. She leaned away from his mouth when a tear trickled out of her eye, the last thing she needed.
“Darrell.”
“Wh-what?” She had to ask.
“You asked what exists between facts and fairytales. That’s my answer. Darrell.”
This she had to hear, so she made herself comfortable on her Taylor-bed, willing to listen if he was willing to open up and talk.
“I lost a good friend in Afghanistan,” he murmured, finger combing the tangles in her hair. “Sometimes I can still see his face, but it’s strange. Sometimes I can’t. Sometimes, I just plain don’t want to. I figure that’s where he is, somewhere between fact and fiction.”
She stilled, her fingers interlocked under her chin, folded on his chest.
�
��He thought he could talk to them, you know, the Taliban soldiers, maybe find a way around the bloodshed and ignorance they were hell bent on spreading. But mostly he was tired of those cowards hiding behind their women and children. He had a baby boy back home. He just didn’t want to see any more kids die or get handed an AK to shoot Americans.” Taylor covered his eyes with his forearm and Gracie was afraid. All along she’d wanted him to open up. Now, he just might.
His Adam’s apple bobbed with an extra hard swallow. “I hate Afghanistan. It stinks like an open sewer. Every day. Every night. And it’s dirty. The kids are skinny and small. Most times they don’t have enough food to eat, or clothes to wear. Or shoes. Their parents love them, but hell. They’re so damned poor.”
A firefly blinked out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her focus on Taylor.
“They killed him,” he said simply. “We went back to get him, but by then... But by then...” He shifted beneath her, crossed his ankles and growled. “Never mind. You don’t need to know all of that, but we didn’t leave him there with those bastards. He’s home where he belongs.”
Gracie planted a row of soft kisses along his jaw. “And now you’re here,” she whispered. “You’re here with me and your family where you belong.” Please stay.
“Yeah. I’m here.”
She heard the unspoken insecurity behind the words. He still wasn’t convinced he belonged.
The time had come. She’d never said the words to another man in her whole life, except for her father. This was different.
“Taylor, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her heart in her throat and the biggest moment of her life just seconds away.
He wrapped his arms around her, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Did he already know?
She gulped. Took one last deep breath, and gave her heart away. “I lo—”
“Gracie?”
Startled, Taylor jumped to his feet, pulling her up with him and shielding her, his body between her and the man at the edge of the cemetery.
“Is that you, Little Bird?”
She retrieved the lantern, not so much to validate that it truly was him, but so Taylor could see his grandfather. Darn it. Of all the times for Peter White Hawk to return.
Taylor Page 18