Ever a Song

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

His eyes narrowed, then turned to the window. “We’re going to have to talk, Autumn.”

  She inhaled sharply and her heart pounded furiously against her ribs. Odd, how confidence and courage could vanish without a trace when confronted with vulnerable reality. “Oh? What about?”

  The room filled suddenly with an unseen, but pulsating presence, a tight, nerve-shattering quiet that was as real as it was intangible. Cade kept his gaze on the window; his fingers curved over the arm of the chair. Slowly he lowered his gaze to the floor and stopped. His expression creased in puzzlement before he moved to get the letter airplane. As he unfolded the page, he straightened and then read in silence.

  Autumn willed her pulse to take advantage of the respite and prepare for a personal and emotionally risky discussion. When he turned to her, though, there was no hint of any deep emotion in his eyes.

  “Weren’t you going to tell me about this?”

  “Of course, but I didn’t want to hit you with it the moment you walked through the door.”

  “Why not? You’ve never hesitated to present me with your problems before.”

  A frown tugged persistently at her mouth. “I wasn’t hesitating. It just didn’t seem so important that I had to blurt it out the minute I saw you. You’d already told me we’d get the line of credit somewhere else if the Eastport bank turned us down.”

  “Us?” He read the letter again. “This is your project, Autumn. Don’t forget that, but I’ll talk to James and see what I can find out about this.”

  “I’ve already talked with him—at length.”

  “And he won’t reconsider?”

  She shook her head. “Not unless I can magically produce more collateral. My interest in the company, for instance.”

  “I don’t want you to do that.”

  “I may not have any other choice.”

  His gaze slid to her and lingered for a thoughtful instant. “Are you positive you really want to do this, Autumn?”

  “The boutique? Yes, Cade, I’m positive.”

  A gentle smile tipped his lips. “All right then. Don’t worry, then. I’ll take care of this for you.”

  It wasn’t the words as much as their indulgent tone that stripped away the years and made her feel like an awkward adolescent eagerly discarding problems and responsibilities on Cade’s capable shoulders. She shattered the image in a slow, purposeful voice. “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

  His expression became guarded then, questioning and faintly cautious. “Why not?”

  “As you said, this is my project. And that includes handling the problems. I can handle this, you know.”

  “It could be more difficult than you expect.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get the line of credit.”

  “While you’re in New York?”

  “I don’t know. That’s a possibility, I suppose.”

  He dropped the bank’s letter onto the edge of the desk and shoved a hand into his jacket pocket. “Then you don’t need my help.”

  Autumn sighed, wondering how the first easy moments of sharing had led to this defensive exchange. “Of course, I need your help. I would never have considered opening the boutique if I hadn’t known I could depend on you. But I can’t let you take care of every problem for the rest of my life.”

  “In that case, I withdraw my offer of assistance and suggest that you allow me to take charge of my section of this office.” He spoke lightly, but she saw the heaviness in his eyes and felt the cool distance return to taunt her.

  She stood because it seemed to be what he expected her to do, but when he walked around the desk she made no move to step aside. Her heart made a soft murmur of protest when he ignored her nearness and slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. In a moment he would have to turn to her, would have to touch her, and in that split-second Autumn ached with the need to say, I love you, Cade. I want you to take care of me for the rest of my life.

  He turned then, but he didn’t look directly at her. His attention was focused on the desktop clutter, and as his hands touched her waist to move her out of his way, she knew she didn’t have the courage to voice her need aloud.

  He seated himself and leafed through a few marina orders before his gaze shifted to hers. “Thanks for watching the office while I was gone,. Any problems? I mean any that you couldn’t handle?”

  “No.” None, except for being desperately in love with you and desperately afraid to tell you so.

  “Good.” He lifted the stack of mail and began sorting through it.

  Autumn swallowed, took a deep breath, and released it. “I—was there something you wanted to talk about?”

  He tensed, and for the first time, looked uncomfortable. “This isn’t the right time. Maybe when you get back from New York ... if you decide to come back.”

  “If I decide…?” Her eyes flashed in sudden amazement and anger. “Is that what you think? That once I get to New York again I’ll just forget about coming back to Eastport? Do you believe I’d simply change my mind about the boutique without a second’s consideration for the time and money already invested?”

  To his credit, he didn’t say it aloud, but Autumn heard it in his challenging silence, knew the thought he hid from her view. It wouldn’t be the first time. And she suddenly realized that to him the boutique was nothing more than dozens of other projects she’d undertaken in the past. A way to channel her energy and soothe her restless spirit, a new goal to pursue until a brighter star caught her eye.

  Cade doubted her. The truth seeped through her mind and clogged in her throat. She turned from him quickly, making her way to the doorway.

  “Autumn!” he called, and she stopped as she heard the sound of his footsteps behind her. “Autumn, I ...”

  The stillness inside her was edged with hope, but woven with dread. He didn’t believe in her ability to act responsibly or to carry a plan through to completion. She would have to prove herself to him, even though it seemed unfair and unnecessary. If there was anyone in the world who should know her, who should understand and accept her, it was Cade.

  But if he needed proof, she would give it. Maybe in some intangible way it would show him how much she loved him, not because she needed his help, but because she needed him.

  If only he would touch her now, just place his hand on her shoulder or accidentally brush his fingers against her hair....

  The phone buzzed a demanding intrusion and he retraced his steps to the desk. “Yes?” he answered as he watched Autumn walk from the room and through the reception area. He’d hurt her and he hadn’t meant to do that. As he settled back into the chair, he stared at the ceiling, his immediate attention on the telephone conversation, but his thoughts with Autumn.

  As he replaced the receiver in its cradle he rubbed his temples and decided he was a first-rate coward. He had spent countless hours during the past week thinking, debating, questioning, and reaching a decision, only to have his courage desert him at the first glimpse of Autumn. She had seemed genuinely glad to see him and for a few minutes he’d thought everything might be all right, but when it came to voicing the emotion he felt so deeply, he’d hesitated, and the opportunity had vanished.

  He’d come home intending to be honest. He had planned to tell her that he loved her, that he knew she would need time to adjust to the idea, but that he was willing to wait. And he’d been prepared—or so he’d thought—to accept whatever decision she made. But he’d seen her eager smile of greeting and he’d known he couldn’t accept just any decision she gave him. It was all or nothing. And in those first moments his plans had seemed too risky, so he’d looked for an excuse to delay—and found one.

  He didn’t understand how the bank could have turned her down and yet, hadn’t he half hoped that they would? Then she would have to turn to him; she would need his help and in some inexplicable way she would understand that he needed her. But she had made it crystal-clear that she could manage on her own. She was intent on proving him wrong, on s
howing him how independent and grown-up she could be, and though he didn’t intend to, he seemed to spur that stubborn determination every time she was within ten feet of him.

  He stopped massaging his temples, but the dull pounding inside went on and, with a rueful frown, he realized Autumn’s boutique was already supplying him with a good-sized headache. The busy sounds vibrating through the building reminded him that it was too late to wish that she’d forget the whole idea. She was committed and he knew he’d been unfair when he’d made the comment about her staying in New York. She would be back; if only because he’d voiced a doubt that she would.

  And in the meantime he could only hope his courage would develop a stronger resolve. Maybe when she returned from the buying trips, he would be able to tell her what he’d wanted to tell her today. Who would ever have thought it could be so difficult to say I love you to the woman he’d loved with all his heart for so many years?

  Chapter Nine

  It was quiet inside the store. The Sunday-quiet was disturbed only by the occasional bristly sound of thunder. No customers. No salespeople. No muffled drone of busyness. Just a nice soft quiet that wrapped Autumn in contemplation as she worked.

  The display case shone a crystalline clean, but she pointed the spray bottle at the glass top and misted the surface one more time. As she polished, Autumn mentally inventoried the contents of the case again and wondered if she should switch the sun visors from the lower shelf to the upper. No, she had done so twice already and decided both times she should have left well enough alone.

  She had arranged and rearranged every single item, had dusted and polished every square inch and still she could hardly believe that the boutique was ready for next week’s grand opening. It had taken many long, exhausting hours, three trips to New York, one trip to Dallas, and several sleepless nights, but at last her idea had come to life.

  The carpet smelled new, felt cushiony, and lent a touch of cheery color to the renovated corner. Shelves lined the walls, circular suspension racks held neatly aligned hangers that in turn held blouses, jackets, shirts, shorts, slacks, and various other items of clothing. Swimsuits were displayed on the walls, in the bow window, and wherever else space allowed. Autumn had shivered as she arranged those displays and had had to remind herself repeatedly that in some parts of the world, at that very moment, people were acquiring deep, warm tans.

  Lightning broke through the distant sky and reflected in the windowpanes for a jagged instant. Autumn permitted herself a fleeting wish for sunny Florida and the Thanksgiving dinner that was by now a memory for her family. She should have gone with Ross and Lorna, she supposed, and spent the holiday at her parents* home, but she hadn’t been able to face the thought of making another trip anywhere. She felt too anxious about Monday’s opening, too nervous about the boutique’s ultimate success, and far too restless when Cade wasn’t nearby.

  Her gaze drifted to the doorway connecting the store with the reception area beyond. She could see the closed door of the inner office and knew he was inside. He’d waved to her when he’d come in a little over an hour before, had called out something about catching up on his work, and had shut the door firmly. She had sighed her understanding and returned to the unnecessary last-minute cleaning.

  He was waiting for her. Autumn knew that if he were doing any work at all, it would be as unnecessary as her polishing the glass counter another time. He was simply waiting and if she questioned him, he would say he didn’t like her to be alone in the store.

  That was the truth, of course, as far as it went. But there were other elements in question. Was he still waiting for her to tire of small-town problems, the boat supply business, and the whole idea of the mini-boutique? Did he still expect her to quit at any moment and head for the nearest rainbow?

  With a sigh she looked away. The dustcloth dangled, forgotten, from her fingertips as Autumn stared pensively out the window. Cade saw her that way when he opened the door. He’d intended to get a price list from the file, but purpose faded with the light that pooled around her, streaking her hair with amber. He took the few steps to the connecting doorway and leaned against the frame, watching her, wanting her.

  The past weeks had been the longest he had ever known. Having her so close day after day, waiting for her to ask for his help or advice or even his opinion—and knowing that this time she wasn’t going to ask—had left him restless and impatient. Why was he so uncertain with Autumn? Why did he feel he must stand in the background, watching, waiting for her to turn to him, waiting for her to know that he loved her?

  The first step away from the doorway was impulsive, tentative, but with each subsequent step his confidence increased until, finally, he paused beside the railing that defined Autumn’s corner. The boutique was on a slightly raised platform, and he rested his hands on the banister that flanked a diminutive stair.

  She was very still, standing there in a wistful pose he’d seen many times before. Autumn ... always looking out the window, seeing things he could never see, weaving dreams he couldn’t comprehend. How often he’d watched her, wanting to tell her what he saw beyond that window, the dreams forming in his heart.

  As she looked toward him now, his breath caught with longing and his memories fled into the faraway thunder. Her hand lifted to soothe the crumpled disarray of her hair, her lower lip tucked slightly under the upper in a sensuous, oddly self-conscious gesture, and the hesitant smile in her eyes trembled through the air to reach him.

  “A thunderstorm,” she said as if explaining the focus of her attention. “We don’t usually have them this late in the year.”

  “No.” His thumb stroked the glossy sheen of the rail. “It will be gone by Monday though. I’ve ordered clear skies for your grand opening.”

  “That was thoughtful.” Her gaze hovered, went to the glass-topped case, returned to his. “I have a confession to make,” she said with breathy reluctance. “I used my quarter interest in the company as collateral to get the line of credit from the bank.” Her brows rose in wary challenge as if she expected an immediate and angry response.

  “I know.” He watched her surprise lower that delicate arching of her brows a fraction. “Clayton called to tell me the second you left his office.”

  “He had no right to do that. No right at….” She broke off the statement to look curiously at Cade. “You knew, and you didn’t say anything? Didn’t even try to stop me?”

  “I couldn’t have stopped you on a bet. One way or another, you were determined to prove to me that you could handle this project. I can’t say I’m thrilled with the idea, but it’s done and you’re committed.” He paused and a smile curved slowly into place. “And I have to admit that from here, the boutique looks pretty damn good.”

  It took a moment before her lips parted to match the curve of his own. “Since you’ve made it this far, would you like an advance showing?”

  He suddenly felt guilty for keeping his distance while the boutique was in progress. He had given her enough rope to fence herself in, but she’d taken it and woven a net that held him captive. His brows arched in surrender. “Are you sure you have time to show me around?”

  In answer, she offered a smile and he walked up the two steps to accept. She led him from one small section of the boutique to another, talking all the while, telling him about the different clothing brands, explaining why she’d chosen one item over another, mentioning her struggle with the sun visors. The tour came to an abrupt conclusion when she moved to the display case and cocked her head to the side. “What do you think? Upper or lower shelf?”

  Finally she had asked his opinion, but somehow he lost the significance in the simple delight of teasing her just a little. “Definitely upper.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth formed a curve of speculation. “Do you really think—?” The question ended with a rueful glance over her shoulder. “Kincade O’Connor! Don’t you have anything better to do than feed my insecurities?”

  “Everything looks great,
Autumn. You’ve done a beautiful job. You must know that. How can you feel insecure?”

  “So easily, you probably wouldn’t believe it. I’ve never done anything quite like this before. And it’s so ... important.”

  “Because of me?”

  It was such a soft, undemanding question that Autumn let it drift around her before she tried to answer. What did he expect her to say? “Yes,” she admitted cautiously. “Partly because of you.”

  He nodded as if confirming a private judgment. The storm grumbled outside. In the following silence Autumn took the dustrag and spray bottle from the counter and knelt to put them out of sight. She straightened and cast Cade a wary glance. What was he thinking? Why did he stand there looking at the boutique, at the window, at anything except her?

  “You didn’t have to prove yourself to me, Autumn.”

  She was instantly alert, her heart hesitating like a doe on the frosted edge of a meadow. Her fingertips brushed across her corduroy jeans, chafing the smooth nap. “Didn’t I?” she asked. “Don’t I still have to show you that I’ve grown up?”

  He turned to her then, his eyes as familiar as her own, but as disturbing as the unseasonal storm outside. “No. I’ve been aware of it for a very long time. It just was easier to pretend that I wasn’t. As long as I could think of you as a child, I didn’t have to let you go, you could always belong to me. I knew the little girl in you would continue to love me ... but the woman?”

  Autumn faced him in the momentary lull, waiting, trembling, her pulse stirring a frenetic pattern at the base of her throat.

  “It hasn’t been easy being your hero.” His voice deepened with rough intensity. “Especially when I realized I was ... in love with you.”

  Like the fragile, velvet petals of a rosebud, his words unfolded within her. Soft. Quiet. A warm, tender rush of nameless yearning held her motionless. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. She was melting, love flowing through her and from her as she stood, captured in his eyes, bound by her own emotion. “Cade,” she whispered. “Oh, Cade.”