Amy blinked, then caught his meaning. Time to trot out her story again. “I’ll never have answers to everything that happened that day, but I don’t need to keep searching. I can say goodbye to Gilles and begin to live my life.”
Ross nodded approvingly. “Wise words. And what will the rest of your life look like? Will you continue here at the gallery?”
Emilie spoke from beside them. “Hi, Ross. Sorry to startle you, Amy.” She looked at Ross and gave her head a pitying shake. “She’s jumpy. Someone’s been upsetting her — wants her to go away.”
Those dark eyes grew piercing, as if they could see into Amy’s fears. “Who would do this to you?”
Amy glanced around the room. Nobody stood near them, but still she kept her voice down. “This isn’t a good time to talk about it. I don’t know what to say, anyway. It must be someone I’ve upset by asking about the plane crash, but I don’t know who. They’ve been sending messages telling me to leave.”
“To leave? Why would that link to your accident?”
Amy spread her hands. “I haven’t done anything else lately to rock anyone’s boat. Gilles and Emilie’s father was upset with me for reopening the family’s pain. Maybe someone else was more upset about bringing up the investigation. If I don’t draw any more attention to it, I hope the harassment will stop.”
“One can hope.” His eyes remained serious.
A man in a designer sweater approached the three of them. “Could one of you young ladies help me? I’m interested in the spider web painting near the main door.”
Amy made to excuse herself, but Emilie cut her off. “No, you were in the middle of a conversation. I’ll go.” She gestured toward the entryway. “Lead on.” She followed the customer from the room.
Standing in the middle of the room meant they were blocking traffic, as light as it now was. Amy edged toward a row of paintings. “One of the things I love about working here is I don’t have to pick a favourite. I can enjoy the originals until they’re sold, and there are always copies of the prints.”
Ross followed her lead, and they moved slowly along the line of paintings. “Purchasing for the hotel chain means I needn’t worry if I’ll tire of it or if another choice would ultimately please me more.”
They’d nearly circled the room. Emilie bustled past with her customer, and with a surprisingly friendly smile for Amy. Either the girl had up-sold him to buy two paintings, or the sight of Amy with Ross gave her a false sense of security. The two disappeared into the office.
Amy glanced around. Few patrons lingered in the room, and those who did seemed content to browse. “I need to get back to work. While it’s quiet is a good time to check and re-stock the smaller products.”
As she turned, Ross nodded toward her cane. “This much time on your feet is painful?”
“I’ll be sore tomorrow, but it’s a small price. I enjoy these shows, and I’m so proud of Michael’s work.”
His gaze warmed. “I hope he realizes what a gift it is to have an employee like you.” A crease appeared between his brows. “But for your own health, wouldn’t it be better to find a job that didn’t involve so much physical strain? Amy, come and work for my father. Your business and marketing skills—”
A pair of strong arms slid under Amy’s and wrapped her ribcage. Tightly. She gasped, and they loosened a fraction.
“Hello, Ross.” Michael spoke before she turned to identify her assailant, and the first note of his voice turned her fight-or-flight to unnatural stillness.
Michael didn’t do private displays of affection, let alone public ones. Amy glanced toward the office. If Emilie saw this, the feathers would really fly. Was this how he planned to discourage the girl’s crush? Amy relaxed against his chest. Whatever the cause, she’d be a fool to resist it.
Ross’ face had gone still. He raised one eyebrow at her, and she gave a small smile.
Michael kept talking. “I’m sorry to foil your attempt to steal my best worker, but I must. Amy and I—” Warmth filled his voice. “—have a private understanding. We were waiting for the next anniversary of the accident, out of respect for Gilles’ memory and his family, but I see you’ve forced our hand.”
Ross’ eyes chilled to those of a hawk. They raked Amy’s face and stabbed at Michael. “A simple ‘no thank you’ to the offer would have sufficed.”
“Perhaps, but it would have put Amy in the awkward position of turning down a valued client without being able to say why. You deserve better than that. You’ve been so supportive to Amy, taking her to the crash site and all. This way you can be happy for her instead of concerned.” Michael’s voice dropped a notch. “If you could keep it to yourself until the anniversary, we’d appreciate it.”
“Me and the others in the room.”
Michael’s embrace shifted as if he’d shrugged. He spoke into Amy’s hair. “Do you mind terribly?”
Amy snuggled deeper into his hold. His heart beat against her back, almost as fast as her own.
Ross nodded gracious defeat and raised one hand. “Allow me to be the first to offer congratulations. May you be very happy together. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a painting to select, and time is running out.”
Michael held Amy in place for a long moment after Ross walked past them to the main house. A few other visitors smiled indulgently before turning back to the artwork. Amy’s racing heart and Michael’s arms didn’t leave room for her lungs. Her breath came in shallow gasps.
What just happened? This wasn’t about Emilie at all. He couldn’t mean it — could he? Amy wanted to turn and read his face. See love there.
But she wouldn’t. Michael didn’t love her. He’d have shown some kind of sign by now.
This moment, crazy as it was, would be her treasure to remember. She wouldn’t be the one to break it.
“I’m sorry.” His arms slid away and he retreated.
Amy spun. The pain in his eyes matched what she’d heard in his voice. “Michael?”
“It was the first thing I could think of. I had to get you away from him.”
“Why?”
“You need to stay here for now. With me. Safe. Until Del’s group ends this. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. I didn’t mean—”
The words kept on, but Amy’s hearing froze. Cold and shaking inside, she walked away. Past a few patrons, seeing them only as obstacles to avoid. Toward the entryway. The stairs. Her room.
Emilie would be delighted to have her out of the picture, and Michael deserved the girl’s undivided attention.
Chapter 26
Amy woke the next morning hungry and with a throbbing ache in her hip. Moaning, she rolled over in bed and tried some gentle movement. Good thing she’d done her stretches last night and taken a second pill.
All she’d wanted to do was succumb to an endless sleep last night, but Michael’s words — his touch — had jangled her mind and emotions. Stretching had been as good a way as any to pass the time, and maybe it helped lull her body into tiredness.
Michael and Aunt Bay had each called to her through the closed door. Amy hadn’t responded. Emilie’s tinkling laugh had penetrated the room, as well as the shuffles and scrapes of tear-down after the open house. Troy’s voice was in the mix as well. Good thing he stayed. Amy hadn’t wanted Aunt Bay picking up the extra physical effort, but facing Michael again was not an option.
Amy pushed her hair away from her eyes. She couldn’t hide forever. This morning would be awkward. And of course she’d committed to attending church with them today. No lying in bed until they left.
The thought propelled her to her feet. It was still early. She’d have time to soak in the tub without interfering with their bathroom usage. Amy gathered what she’d need, wrapped herself in her robe, and headed for the door.
A square of white on the floor stopped her. She recognized Michael’s writing.
Dear Amy,
I’m so sorry I upset you. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to take liberties — especially in publi
c like that. I know you’re embarrassed, probably offended, and I hope there’s a way to make this right.
My actions were inappropriate both as a friend and as an employer. All I can say in explanation is that working for Ross and his father is not a good option. Please stay here with us until the danger is resolved, and if you want to leave after that because of my behaviour, I’ll be as generous with a severance package as I can. You do the books, so you know that can’t be much.
Humbly,
Michael
P.S. Please don’t let this keep you from church this morning. If you want me to, I’ll stay home.
Amy’s heart was a dead weight. Could he make his lack of feelings for her any plainer? Still she couldn’t crumple the note and toss it in the wastebasket. If she had to leave this place, she’d want every connection with him, however tiny.
Church. As hard as it would be to go with Michael, she couldn’t ask him to stay away. It wasn’t his fault he’d trampled all over her heart and left it on the floor among the easels. And she wasn’t about to back down from this next step in her relationship with God. Belonging to Him would matter more than ever if — when — she no longer belonged here.
All quiet in the hallway. Amy sneaked from her room.
When she returned, sounds of life drifted from the other bedrooms. She was still combing out her hair when one of the other doors clicked open and footsteps passed outside. Amy tensed, but no voice called to her.
It must have been Aunt Bay on the move, because when Amy arrived in the kitchen after dithering over what to wear, Michael’s aunt sat with her coffee and toast, dressed and ready to go. Her face relaxed when she saw Amy’s attire. “You’re still coming with us.”
Amy gripped the back of the chair opposite Aunt Bay. “What did Michael tell you?”
“Very little, but Emilie was more than happy to oblige.”
Given the girl’s high spirits during the cleanup, Michael’s act hadn’t fooled her. What did Ross think? And what should Amy do about it? She owed him nothing, and she didn’t want to mark Michael — or herself — as a liar. Maybe she should let it go. If she ended up needing that job, she’d deal with the deception then.
“Find yourself some breakfast and sit, child. You were asleep last night when the pizza arrived.”
Or trying to sleep. Amy found some grapes and served herself a dish of yogourt. Digging in the cupboard for the granola, she asked, “So what did Emilie say?”
“Her theory is that Michael has some kind of fixation about you still belonging to Gilles, with his role being a surrogate protector. Working for the Zarins would move you out of Michael’s control, so he pretended you two had a personal connection to keep you here. Why a prospective employer would care about your love life, I don’t know.”
A fixation that wouldn’t let her move past Gilles? Amy set her food on the table, trembling hands rattling the dishes. She looked at Aunt Bay. “Michael doesn’t lie. But he did.”
His aunt nodded and took a drink. “Of course she told me this while he and Troy were carrying easels to the basement.”
“You still don’t think he has some form of… illness?”
“I do not.” Aunt Bay spread blueberry jam on the last triangle of toast.
Amy went back to the counter and concentrated on pouring a mug of coffee without spilling. Michael didn’t care for her romantically. That much was clear. It made sense that his jealous response was on Gilles’ behalf. All his protectiveness, his holding her back from moving on — how could Amy not have seen what he was up to? No wonder these threats had him so on edge.
Her heart bled out through her soles. It wasn’t a matter of how long it would take for him to develop feelings for her. Michael was loyal to a fault. He’d never allow himself to love his best friend’s girl.
How could she venture into church this morning, a big step on its own, with this new knowledge crushing her? Amy’s lips quivered. “I think I should stay here today after all.”
“Please, Amy. It’s not safe for you to be alone, and you wouldn’t want to be with me. Don’t make Aunt Bay miss church.” Michael’s voice from the doorway came out husky.
Amy whirled. How much had he heard? “Are you guilting me?”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I—” He flung his arms wide, his face twisting. “I’ve caused enough trouble. I don’t want to spread it to Aunt Bay, too.”
Dark-rimmed eyes, a red spot where he must have nicked himself shaving… he looked terrible. Amy took half a step toward him before she caught herself. The lost look in his eyes went beyond grief, as if he’d wrestled all night with Gilles’ ghost and been found wanting. Amy’s heart twisted. I love you, Michael. No matter what’s wrong in your mind.
She crossed the room and stood looking up at him, aching to wrap him in her arms and offer comfort. He’d done that for her before, standing in for Gilles, but being on the receiving end might be a breach of his unnatural loyalty. “Michael? It’s okay. I’m not offended. And I’ll go with Aunt Bay. Shouldn’t you go back to bed?”
His eyes widened, and his face lost its rigid cast. “Can you forgive me?”
“It’s done. Now, get some sleep. We’ll set the alarm when we leave.”
Michael shook his head and turned to the coffee pot. “I’ll nap later. Days like this are when I most need to be in church.”
Aunt Bay lifted an eyebrow. “I think I’ll drive.”
When they arrived in the parking lot and Amy saw the open doors of the church, the reality of her choice hit her. Yes, she’d meant her prayer on Wednesday night. And Aunt Bay had showed her verses in the Bible that said God would accept anyone who came to Him with a sincere, longing heart.
Amy licked dry lips. Would there be anyone here like the church ladies of her childhood? Whispering, pitying, judging? She tried to calm her breathing. Nobody would know her past. Michael and his aunt didn’t see it as a problem, and they wouldn’t bring it up.
Walking into the building still felt like being sent to the principal’s office in school.
A smiling woman handed them each a program. “Good morning!” She hugged Aunt Bay and Michael in turn and half-reached for Amy, a question in her eyes. Amy smiled and extended her hand to shake.
Aunt Bay made introductions and led the way into the seating area. She stopped midway to the front and gestured to a side row. “You might not want to be in the thick of things your first Sunday here.”
Amy glanced at the chairs. “Could I sit between you?”
She’d asked for her own security — and to sit beside Michael, truth told — but the flicker of his eyebrows and the sad smile he sent her way said the gesture reinforced her earlier words of forgiveness.
As he stepped past her into the row, Amy whispered, “Don’t beat yourself up. You’re making this bigger than it really was.”
He didn’t look like he believed her.
Settled safely between the two of them, Amy looked around. She thought she recognized one or two faces from the other night. Possibly from the open house, too. A few people noticed her and smiled a welcome. Most people looked friendly, and there was a good spectrum of ages. “Will Troy be here?”
“No,” Michael said. “He goes to another church. They’re the ones with the Tuesday group I’m in.”
“It would have been nice to see someone else I knew.”
One of the women she’d seen with Aunt Bay on Wednesday approached from the front of the room. She sidled into the row ahead of them and beamed at Amy, holding out her hand. “It’s so good to see you this morning. I’m Fiona Moring, a friend of Beatrice.” The woman’s hand was warm, her grip sincere.
“I’m Amy. I work with Michael, and he and Aunt Bay have been like family to me.” Heat flooded her face. “But you’d know that already.”
Fiona arched a brow. “Beatrice does talk, yes. But she has only good to say about you. I’ve been praying for a long time that you’d feel comfortable to join them on a Sunday.”
&n
bsp; “You were praying for me? You didn’t even know me.” What had Aunt Bay said?
“Beatrice loves you. I knew about your tragic loss. That was enough.” Fiona’s smile reached the depths of her eyes. “God bless the three of you. I’ll catch you later, Bay.” She moved back to the aisle and walked back to her seat.
A small band took position on the stage. Gentle music filled the room, but the people chatting at the back made no moves toward their seats. By the time the minister stepped behind the podium, three more women had stopped to welcome Amy. Although they cast worried glances at Michael, all they asked was how his open house had gone. Would they be gossiping about his health later? Or praying for him? Amy felt certain Fiona would be praying.
She would, herself, although she didn’t know what to say. Was there something God could do about Michael’s strange overprotection? Something that could give them a future?
The music stopped, and the minister said, “Good morning, everyone. Thank you for coming today, whether you’re a regular part of our congregation or a visitor. May the Lord suit a blessing to each one of us today.”
Did his eyes linger on Amy? Or was that her insecurity talking? Shameful. Mistake. Amy frowned and formed her own thoughts against the accusations from the past. Accepted. Child of God. Jesus loves me. She took Aunt Bay’s hand.
After a few announcements, the band kicked up the tempo. Amy tried to sing along with the words on the screen, but she’d never heard these melodies before. Except for one that sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe she’d heard it in Michael’s studio.
When the ushers started passing offering plates, Aunt Bay whispered, “You’re a guest. Don’t feel obligated to give.”
Amy found a two-dollar coin in her wallet, and slid it into the plate as it passed. Her heart wanted to give back something, no matter how small. Nothing she could give would be big enough to say a proper thank you.
She’d expected the sermon to be dry, but the minister — Pastor Verrall — told a story about one of Jesus’ disciples trying to walk on water, and how Jesus rescued him when he started sinking. At least he’d had the courage to try — and to ask for help.
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