Together With You

by Victoria Bylin

  “Maybe the answer isn’t trying.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “The work is done, Carly Jo. Trying won’t get you there. This is about trusting God.”

  “I know that.” She knew everything about being a Christian because she’d been one her whole life. She pushed off the swing so hard it flew back, then forward, and whapped her in the rear end. What an awful day this had been! And now Ryan was acting like a pirate and caring about her, when she could hardly look at him without her heart leaping out of her chest.

  “Carly Jo?”

  “I’m here, Daddy.”

  “Maybe you should come home for a visit. I’m worried about you.”

  Aching to say yes, she inhaled sharply. Dust filled her nose, along with smog and the ocean air that smelled all wrong. If she went home for a visit, maybe she could forget her feelings for Ryan, or at least figure out how to control them. “I’d like that, Daddy. Maybe after the camping trip.”

  “Just keep it in mind, sweetheart.”

  “I will.” She imagined lush grass, the smells, the booming thunder that gave the county its name. “So what’s the weather like?”

  “A storm’s rolling in.”

  With her eyes closed, she listened while he described a sky full of gray and white clouds, some wispy and others heavy with rain. It was the exact picture she planned to paint on Penny’s wall. A coincidence? Or was it God telling her He understood how she felt? Carly didn’t know, but she felt a burning need to finish Penny’s mural.

  “Thanks for listening, Daddy. I have to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise.”

  “You know I love you, Carly Jo.” The sweetness of home thickened his voice. “If you’d care to call back tonight, you do that.”

  She pocketed the phone and walked back to Ryan’s house, her fingers itching to pick up the paintbrush. Knowing the front door was locked, she went through the back gate. As she rounded the corner of the house, she heard loud splashing, Penny’s high-pitched giggles, and Ryan roaring like a sea monster.

  Don’t stop. Don’t look. He’d be shirtless, of course. Water would bead on his shoulders and chest. His chest . . . Was it hairy or smooth? Muscular, definitely.

  “Hey, Carly!” he called from the shallow end. “I caught a mermaid. Come and see.”

  Penny shouted, “I can fly, too!”

  Carly pasted a fake smile on her face and detoured to the pool. Ryan saw her, flashed a grin, and tossed Penny high into the air. Shrieking, she landed with a splash. Fresh droplets landed on Ryan’s tanned shoulders, caught the sun, and sparkled like glitter.

  His gaze locked with hers, but Penny popped up in front of him and tried to climb into his arms. “Again, Daddy! Do it again!”

  Not Dr. Tremaine. Not Dr. Daddy. Just Daddy. Carly pressed her hand to her chest. With her eyes on Ryan, she treasured the surprise exploding on his face. He was focused on Penny now, his mouth open until his lips pulled into a smile that gleamed white in the sun. Intending to slip away, she headed for the slider.

  “Carly?”

  She turned and smiled. “I heard.”

  Penny clung to him like a monkey and patted his face for attention, but he kept his eyes on Carly. “Thank you,” he called out to her.

  “I didn’t do anything. It’s just . . . just love.”

  Afraid he’d see her heart in her eyes, she fled into the house and went straight to Penny’s room to finish the mural. Someone, probably Ryan, had covered the cans to keep the paint from drying out. With clumsy fingers, Carly pried open the lid, dipped in the brush, and slashed a thick gray line across the base of the billowing clouds.

  She painted a few more squiggly lines, traded the thick brush for a thin one, then added streaks of rain and a swirl of shimmering wind. Stepping back, she saw clouds melting into rain that would cleanse, refresh, and maybe heal her dry and thirsty heart. It was a meltdown, literally. Slumping to her knees, she gave in to tears and questions, a plea to be free of her guilt over Allison, and the strength to forget Ryan’s perfect, not-too-hairy chest.

  Again, Daddy! Do it again!

  Penny’s words trumpeted through Ryan’s mind for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Carly didn’t come out of her room to fix dinner, so he tapped on her door. When she didn’t answer, he opened it a crack and saw her curled on the bed under a fleece throw, sound asleep with her head on a pillow and her back to him. The day had drained her, but he hoped his plan to hire a private investigator would lift her spirits.

  With Carly asleep and Kyle with Taylor, he took Penny and Eric to In-N-Out Burger, one of the few things remaining on the SOS list. Carly was still in hiding when they returned, so he put Penny to bed and headed to the old garage with the Impala to check the camping gear. He preferred hotels and good restaurants, but Eric’s enthusiasm had them all fired up.

  He opened the big garage door, flipped on the light, and backed the Impala into the driveway to make room for the gear he needed to pull down from the rafters. He was on his last trip down the ladder, shouldering a sleeping bag, when a shadow fell across the garage floor.

  “Ryan?”

  “Carly. Good.” He took the last few rungs and tossed the sleeping bag onto the pile. “I was about to look for you.”

  “Here I am.”

  Her tone struck him as distant, even a little vague. She didn’t sound like herself at all.

  “Let me finish here, then we’ll go to my office. There’s something I want to show you.”

  She hesitated. “Could you just tell me?”

  “I’d rather show you, but I need to hang the sleeping bags so they’ll air out.”

  She glanced at the pile on the floor. “I’m kind of tired. Will you be much longer?”

  A lame excuse, but he couldn’t call her on it without revealing his earlier tap on her door. Rather than keep her, he spoke as he shook out a sleeping bag. “I was going to show you the Web site for a private investigator. A colleague of mine used this woman when his son ran away.”

  “An investigator? What for?”

  “To find Allison.”

  He was halfway up the ladder when Carly’s faint voice reached his ears. “You’d do that for me?”

  “It’s a long shot, but this woman specializes in missing kids.” He hung the sleeping bag, straightened the edges, then peered down at her. “Her Web site gives her credentials, success stories, that sort of thing.”

  “It seems impossible,” Carly said, more to herself than to him. “Allison’s been missing almost two years. I check her social media all the time. I’ve left messages there.”

  “Any cell phone?”

  “Disconnected.” She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “She wasn’t good with money. She’d give anyone who asked everything she had, not because she wanted to, but because she didn’t understand and thought she had to do it.”

  He thought of Penny. “It’s rough.”

  “Yes.” Carly shivered a little. “It would take a miracle to find her.”

  From the top of the ladder, Ryan beamed a challenge at her. “You’re the Christian. You believe in miracles, right?”

  Startled, she glared back. “You’re mocking me.”

  “Not at all.” He indicated the sleeping bags still on the floor. “Would you hand one to me?”

  “Sure.”

  She came forward and lifted it. He placed his hands near hers and took the bag. “I was trying to show respect for your values. So what do you say? Shall we go for it?”

  “I can’t afford an investigator.”

  “I can.” Still on the ladder, he tilted his head down while she looked up. The fluorescent light washed the color from her cheeks and the life from her eyes. “Let me do this for you, Carly. We might find her. We might not. Either way, you can have the peace of knowing you did everything possible.”

  “It’s kind of you. I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. Just e-mail her p
icture, anything you have that’ll help the investigator. I’ll call her tomorrow and forward whatever info you have.”

  “Thank you. You’re a . . . a good friend.”

  After a quick nod, he hung the last sleeping bag and climbed down the ladder. There was so much more he wanted to say. You’re beautiful. I care about you. I love you. But he didn’t say any of those things. What did a man do when he fell for a woman with an outlook on life incompatible with his own? Tense, he folded the ladder and hung it on the wall. Carly waited on the driveway, her hands jammed in her back pockets as he drove the Impala back into the garage. He climbed out, slammed the door, and crossed to the wall to turn off the light.

  “Ryan?”

  “Yes?” He paused with his hand on the switch.

  “I just want you to know. What you’re doing for Allison is . . . it’s special to me.”

  Silence wrapped around them and pulled tight, thickening with every breath. He turned off the light, left the garage, and closed the door with the keypad. As it rumbled shut, they walked side by side down the driveway.

  “Oh!” Her flip-flop caught, and she stumbled. Ryan caught her elbow and pulled her upright, turning her slightly to counter the fall. She faced him, maybe to say thank you, but nothing came out of her slightly parted lips. No words. No sound. Only the soft rasp of her breath mingling with his.

  The moon beamed down through the branches, and a breeze stirred through the leaves, rustling them like the scrape of silk. She was steady on her feet now. He had no reason to hold her and every reason to let go, but she was female, soft, and beautiful. Kissing her was a terrible idea . . . a dangerous one.

  Pull back, he told himself. Let her go. If they kissed, they couldn’t go back to being just friends. He’d never forget it, wouldn’t want to forget it. And neither would she. Ryan was a confident man, and that included confidence in his ability to kiss a woman senseless.

  Their breathing synchronized. One breath, two breaths.

  Her lips parted.

  So did his.

  One kiss . . . one taste of her lips. One moment of comfort for Carly, who was hurting and always so generous to others. For once, Ryan wanted to be the giver. She needed a strong shoulder, a man to hold her, a moment of something sweet and good.

  He leaned forward an inch.

  So did she.

  He cupped the back of her head with his hand, smelled her clean hair, and tangled his fingers in it. And then it struck him . . . tangled. If he kissed her, their lives would be tangled together in an all new way—a way that could cost Penny her nanny, Ryan a true friend, and Carly—he didn’t know what it would cost her. She wasn’t like the women he used to date. Those women were satisfied with a “for now” relationship. Carly wanted forever.

  If he kissed her, he’d hurt her.

  He couldn’t take that chance.

  Jaw tight, he drew her head down to his shoulder and held it there. Her breath raced along his neck and down his throat, a gust that told him she’d been holding it. She sagged a bit, then her fingers let go of his shirt and slid off his shoulder blades. Still fighting the desire to taste her lips, he planted a kiss on her temple, set her upright, and took a big step back. With her face in shadows, he cleared his throat. “Are you all right?”

  “I-I’m fine,” she murmured.

  They took a few steps together, but the almost-kiss haunted them with a silent demand to be taken and enjoyed. Those feelings needed to be pulled out by the roots, so he stopped Carly at the gate. “We both felt something.”

  She inhaled softly. “Yes.”

  “It was just nature. Let’s forget it.”

  “Of course,” she said, a little breathy. “Like I said before, it’s a ridiculous idea.”

  “Definitely,” he agreed.

  “Absolutely,” she replied.

  Ryan opened the gate, and Carly went ahead of him, leaving him to ponder the almost-kiss that wasn’t ridiculous at all. Ryan had a problem and he knew it. They had a problem. He didn’t know how they were going to fix it, and for once in his life he felt outmatched, because all the self-control in the world couldn’t stop his heart from loving her.

  Carly dropped down onto her bed, rolled to her side, and buried her face in the pillow with the hope of clearing her mind, but nothing could wipe away the sensation of Ryan’s hand in her hair, his breath caressing her cheek, that smoky look in his eyes as he leveled his face over hers. If he’d kissed her, she would have kissed him back.

  But he didn’t do it. Instead he’d written off the almost-kiss as just nature, when to Carly it would have been special and forever.

  He didn’t understand her. And he never would . . . unless he changed or she did. Carly would never go against her most basic beliefs, but was there room for compromise? If she demanded that Ryan share her faith before they moved to the next step, did it mean she was close minded, even self-righteous? She didn’t know what to think at the moment; she only knew she loved him and wanted to make a life with him.

  But what kind of life?

  The pool pump hummed, and she wondered if Ryan was sneaking a cigarette at the back fence. Curling into a ball, she begged God to change her feelings or to change Ryan, because she couldn’t bear the pain of loving a man who didn’t know how to love her back.

  26

  As promised, Ryan hired Brie McCarty to search for Allison. A retired LAPD detective in the Juvenile division, Brie was an expert in runaways and sex trafficking. She went to work immediately. Over the next two weeks, she updated Carly and Ryan with several e-mails, though the news was generally disappointing.

  Ryan and Eric made plans for Anacapa. It was Monday now, and tomorrow they’d head out on the trip. Seated at the desk in his office, Ryan started up the laptop, intending to pay a few bills. In a little while, Denise would pick up Penny, and tomorrow he, Carly, and five teenagers would take the Cal-Island charter boat to Anacapa for a one-night stay.

  Everyone was excited, but Ryan was in a quandary. He and Carly bantered when the kids were around, but otherwise they avoided each other. In spite of his efforts to be friendly in a normal sort of way, the feelings between them were as strong as ever. Someone had to compromise, and he didn’t want that person to be Carly. Between her naïve faith and his realism, he preferred the effects of her faith, even if he didn’t share it. He was willing to accept their differences, even change for her, but he couldn’t make himself believe in God.

  While the computer started, he glanced around the office. His gaze went to his mother’s Bible, so he picked it up, carried it to his desk, and skimmed through the dog-eared pages like he’d done a month or so ago.

  Nothing caught his eye until he saw a note in his mother’s handwriting. A little melancholy, he read his name written in the margin and surrounded by four dates—his thirtieth birthday, the day of his divorce, the day he told his mother about Penny, and a date that shamed him, because it was her birthday, and he’d forgotten it. When he sent flowers a week later, she told him they were even more special because they made her birthday last another week.

  That was his mom. Always thinking of others. Forgiving them. Loving people even when they let her down. Wishing he could fix that mistake and everything else, Ryan read the verse underlined in purple ink. “Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.”

  There was no way he could go boldly to a throne of grace, or a king he didn’t understand. When Ryan messed up, he went to the individuals he hurt and tried to make things right. He wasn’t a Christian, but he was a moral person and took responsibility. When it came to behavior, he and Carly were very much alike. He could easily live with their differences. Why not build a life on what they had in common?

  A knock on the doorjamb pulled his gaze upward, and he saw Carly looking shell-shocked. Forgetting the Bible, he launched to his feet. “What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t believe this.” She held up her ph
one as if she’d never seen it before. “I just talked to Allison’s great-aunt. Her name is Velma. She lives in Cumberland, and Allison is with her.”

  Ryan gave a silent salute to Brie McCarty. “So she’s safe.”

  “Yes.”

  He came around the desk, gave Carly a hug, then pointed at the loveseat. She dropped down on the thick cushion and so did he. Their knees bumped, touched again, and this time stayed close. “Tell me everything,” he said.

  “Brie sent an e-mail last night. It said she had news and wanted to talk. We set a time for later today. But then twenty minutes ago, my phone rang. I saw the Kentucky area code, and would you believe I almost didn’t answer? I figured it was a wrong number.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “No, and the news couldn’t have been better. Allison is living with Velma.”

  “That’s great. Did you get to talk to her?”

  “Not yet. She’s away at a church camp for kids with special needs. She’s a counselor for girls Penny’s age. Adults oversee everything, but what counts is that she’s there and being useful. Velma took my number, which Allison had lost. And now I have Velma’s number.” Carly clutched at his hand and squeezed. “I can’t thank you enough—”

  “You just did.” He turned his palm to match hers and held tight.

  Their breathing synchronized, and they turned their heads at the same time. The moment called for a celebration, so he brushed his lips against her cheek. Then, being the man he needed to be, he went back to his desk but stayed on his feet.

  Carly gazed at him, adoration in her eyes and her face bright with the joy of finding Allison, or maybe from that brush of his lips on her cheek. When he remained silent, she pushed off the loveseat. “I better get back to the laundry. I just wanted to share the good news.”

  She took a step toward the door but stopped to look at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The office was Ryan’s private domain, even more private than his bedroom, because she did laundry and put his socks in his drawers. Carly didn’t come in here at all.