And for that ungodly thought, Charlie deserved to spend his life alone, unhappy, unfulfilled. The weight of his self-confession pressed on his physical body so hard that he dropped to his knees in the fertile black soil and felt the wet clods soak his worn jeans.
He’d been relieved when Kendra was no longer in his life.
Chapter Seventeen
A sound of anger and distress retched out of Charlie’s soul and tore at his throat. He pounded his fist against the dirt.
The truth had been a secret so dark and so ugly that he’d buried it and been incapable of facing it. What kind of man felt a sense of freedom at the loss of human life? The loss of a good person, someone he loved, a woman his adopted family treasured and entrusted to him?
What kind of man was he?
An hour passed. Charlie’s knees ached. His tomato plants were drowning. His shoulders were burnt from the sun. His throat was raw.
He was just a man. Not a bad one. Not an unfeeling one. Just a man who’d grown up as a lonely boy and felt indebted to the Phillipses.
Slowly he got to his feet.
He had grieved over Kendra. Just not the way everyone expected—the way he thought he should have.
And he could love. He’d loved his wife and he adored his daughter.
And he felt passion. He wanted Starla in a way he’d never experienced before and had been too guilt stricken to acknowledge. Admitting that he had fallen in love with her would have been admitting that he’d never had similar feelings for his wife.
And he hadn’t been able to do that.
Not until this moment; when it was too late and Starla was long gone, living the life she’d chosen for herself.
God, how he admired her for that. Right now she was somewhere in Maine living her dream, cooking up lobster bisque, whatever the hell that was, and adding cumin to her soups.
Charlie glanced toward the creek, the frogs silent now in the daylight. The buzz of a bee met his ears, along with the distant rumble of a jet.
He’d moved out here to escape. Escape people and their expectations. But he’d heaped more of them on himself, unrealistic expectations sometimes. Like expecting to feel passion for a wife he’d never fallen in love with.
Looking out across his abundant garden and the waving grass and alfalfa that stretched over his acres, it was hard to remember the same land buried in three feet of glistening snow, the sky silent and gray. That’s why it was such a good year for the farmers, because of all the snow. For every thing there was a season.
He loved Starla Richards, the ethereal beauty who had driven into his life one wintry night and changed everything. It wasn’t Starla’s fault that he hadn’t felt the same for Kendra. It wasn’t Kendra’s fault, either. And he was sure, by God, finished blaming himself.
Some things just were.
Feeling as though he’d sweated off a hundred pounds that last hour, Charlie shut off the water and rolled up the hose.
He would shower, call Meredith, then go get himself something to eat in town. This epiphany stuff gave a man a hell of an appetite.
“Hey, Charlie!” Shirley called when she spotted him entering the air-conditioned interior of the Waggin’ Tongue. “The little darlin’ still off visiting Sean’s family?”
He picked up a newspaper from the counter. “She’ll be gone until the weekend.”
“Must be mighty quiet out at your place.”
He took a seat and she brought him a menu he didn’t bother to open. “It’s quiet all right. I’ll have the hot beef sandwich on mashed potatoes with dark gravy and a side order of slaw.”
“Coffee?”
“Milk and a glass of water, please.”
“Comin’ right up, sweetie.”
He unfolded the paper and read the front page.
From the serving ledge on the window that separated the restaurant from the kitchen, Harry’s stereo softly played an old Beatles classic.
Charlie’d been in here dozens of times since last winter, and he never failed to remember the heart-stopping fear of having his daughter missing or the following days that had changed him.
When the enormous silver rig with blue detailing rolled into the parking lot, it immediately caught his attention, and Charlie wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not. Just a similar truck, but lately everything made him think of her.
But no, there across the door was emblazoned the logo Silver Angel with the tilted halo over the A. Charlie’s heart nearly stopped, then chugged so fast he thought it would burst from his chest. He laid down the paper.
The image of Starla stepping out of that truck into the snow, making her way to the door and inside the café, then shedding her coat took his breath away.
Still staring out the window, he got to his feet. Shirley was just carrying his drinks to the table, but he walked past her without looking and didn’t see her curious gaze follow him.
Neither did he notice the heat that struck him when he opened the door and ran across the parking lot toward the truck.
The door opened and a jeans-clad leg and a boot appeared—a work boot. A man’s work boot.
A man of about fifty with thick silver hair and mustache lowered himself to the ground and stared at Charlie. The stranger shut the cab door.
Feeling stupid, Charlie stared back. His gaze shot to the door again. This was the Silver Angel all right. His thoughts shifted to override the disappointment, and understanding reached his brain. Starla’s dad. The Silver Angel was his rig. “You must be Starla’s father.”
The man smiled. Charlie noted he was tall and good-looking, and he could see where Starla had inherited part of her looks. “That I am. And you’re…?”
Charlie extended a hand. “Charlie McGraw.”
The other man had a strong callused handshake. “You’re the man with the little daughter who has a big imagination.”
“That’s me. She’s visiting my brother’s family right now.”
“Strange you being here like this. I was planning to look you up on my way through. I’m picking up a load of soybeans down the highway.”
“I was just getting a bite to eat. Come on in and join me.”
They walked to the café, boots crunching on the gravel drive, and Charlie held open the door.
Shirley kept Charlie’s food hot until a plate was made up for the other man.
“I don’t know your name,” Charlie said when they both had a steaming plate in front of them.
“Vince.”
“Starla thinks the world of you. She talked a lot about how close the two of you were while she was growing up.”
“Yeah, she’s my little Star. A beauty, that one, from the very moment she came into the world. Thinks for herself, she does.”
Charlie nodded. A minute passed while they ate. “How is she?”
“She’s doing great. Her restaurant is a big hit on the East Coast. Word is getting around, not to mention attention from some stellar reviews, and people are driving to Beachtree just to try the food.”
Beachtree. Charlie hadn’t known where she lived until that moment. Oh, he could have found out. His mom had Starla’s e-mail address. He could have asked for it and written to her, asked where she lived, asked how she was doing…but he hadn’t dared. He hadn’t been able to deal with the flood of feelings that contacting her would unleash.
“What’s it called, her restaurant?”
“The Hidden Treasure. She came up with that because it sounds piratelike and seafood is the specialty. The place is also out of the way, in a warehouse district. Clever, I thought.”
Charlie nodded.
They finished their meals and Shirley brought slices of apple pie. “On the house,” she said with a wink.
“You said you were going to look me up,” Charlie said.
Vince Richards nodded. “I wanted to thank you for taking care of my girl. For sharing your family for the holiday and all. She appreciated it. I was relieved to know she was okay and that someone was
looking out for her after she got that knock on the head.”
“Did it leave a scar?”
“I hadn’t paid attention, but she does wear her hair over that spot now. Hadn’t thought about it, but maybe that’s why. She’s not a vain girl, my Starla. I always thought she could have turned out one of those stuck-up chicks nobody can stand. She has the looks, you know. Maybe it made a difference that we traveled all over and she was always the new kid in school. Least-wise I don’t see her as uppity, maybe others see her differently.”
“No,” Charlie said quietly. “She’s just as you describe her.”
Shirley brought two cups of coffee and discreetly disappeared.
Vince stirred sugar into his. “She had a lot of nice things to say about you, too. I thought maybe the two of you would stay in touch, but I asked a while back and she said no.”
Charlie’s chest ached with the loss. He glanced out at the Silver Angel, sun glinting from her chrome smokestack and trim. “Can I be frank with you?”
Vince nodded. “I wish you would.”
“I had a lot of crap to deal with. A lot of guilt over my wife and her death.”
“You blamed yourself for her dying?”
“No. It’s hard to explain.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know. But I want to say something, and in order for it to make sense, I need to explain. I—” He looked at his cup, gathering his thoughts, then back at Starla’s father. “I married my wife because it was expected. This is a small town, people make assumptions. Parents make assumptions, too. My parents took me in after my real mother died, and I felt indebted to them. My wife was their daughter and everyone expected us to get married.”
“And so you did.”
Charlie nodded. “Makes me sound gutless, doesn’t it?”
“No. Makes you sound responsible. Kind probably.”
“Yeah, well kind didn’t make for much of a marriage. I shouldn’t have married her for the wrong reasons. I cheated her out of something more.”
“Least you didn’t screw her ’cause she was the town beauty queen, knock her up and then have to make a marriage out of that mess.”
“Personal experience?”
“We’re talkin’ man to man here, ’n’ that’s more than Starla needs to know.”
“Sure.”
“It turned out okay, I’m just saying people get married for a lot less honorable reasons than that.”
Charlie looked into the man’s blue eyes and read his understanding. He’d never spoken of this to another person and getting it off his chest felt right. “Anyway, what I was getting around to was that I didn’t think I had a right to feel anything for your daughter. I didn’t have anything to give.”
“Now you do?”
That brought him up short. Maybe he did. “I didn’t get her address or phone number because I didn’t want to have them and argue with myself whether or not to use them. And I was afraid.”
“Women put the fear of God in you, that’s for sure.”
“I don’t even know…if there’s someone else.”
“All that and you could have just asked me if she had a boyfriend.”
Charlie ran a hand down his face. And waited.
“Not that I know of.”
“She would tell you?”
“She tells me pretty much everything. I didn’t exactly get all the details about her time here with you, but she has her right to privacy.”
Charlie felt his neck get warm.
Vince leaned to the side and reached into his back pocket.
“I’ll get your dinner,” Charlie said quickly.
“Thanks.” He pulled out his wallet and unfolded a scrap of paper. “Got a pen?”
Charlie got up and fished a pen out of the cup beside the cash register. “Here.”
On a napkin Vince copied an address and phone number, jotted down another number, then stuck the paper back into his wallet. He pushed the napkin across the table. “Don’t waste too much time arguing with yourself. Life is short.”
Charlie took the white napkin and stared at the numbers and street address. “I can’t just call. What would I say?”
Vince chuckled. “I can’t help you out there, boy.”
What excuse did he have left? That she lived in Maine and he lived in Iowa? Long-distance relationships had been known to work.
That she didn’t feel anything for him? Their time together had been a romantic fling and nothing more? Could be, but he couldn’t know for sure unless he stuck his neck out.
That he couldn’t leave his daughter? It was summer vacation, and she was with Sean and Robyn for the rest of the week. If he asked, they would keep her longer.
“I’m going to go to Maine,” he said.
Vince finished his coffee. “I wrote my phone number on there, too. I’d like to know how it turns out.”
“You won’t say anything about this?”
“Nope.”
They stood and grasped hands.
“Thank you, Vince. For everything.”
“I didn’t do anything ’cept give you her address.”
“You did more than that.”
He paid and walked Vince out into the sunshine. The man got into his truck, and gravel crunched under the tires as the big rig pulled away. Charlie stood watching the taillights disappear down the highway. Then he turned and got into the Jeep. He had to get online and buy plane tickets.
Chapter Eighteen
Later the same night Charlie drove his rental car slowly past the Hidden Treasure restaurant. A neon sign with a treasure chest dripping jewels identified it. The interior was lit from within, revealing a considerable-size late-dinner crowd. Patrons filled the tables and a waitress carried a tray.
He imagined walking inside. She would be there, somewhere. But a public restaurant and her place of work wasn’t the place to approach her.
Charlie drove to a stretch of moonlit beach and pulled out his cell phone to check on Meredith.
After speaking to her, he held the phone for a moment before shutting it off and placing it on the seat. He got out of the car and walked along the beach. He’d thought to wear loafers, thank goodness, so he slipped them off and carried them. The sand, still warm from the sun, felt good on his soles.
He was wired from the flight and he would never sleep tonight. He’d checked into a motel, but he couldn’t wait. He had to see her tonight.
Loving Starla was the most unexpected thing he’d ever done. Coming here was the biggest risk he’d ever taken. He’d lived up to other people’s expectations his whole life, and it was past time to do something for himself—just because it felt right and because it was what he wanted.
The breeze blowing across the ocean was cool and the air held a salty tang. The moon was a blue-white orb over the silvery water, the stars extending into eternity. What was a guy from the Midwest doing on a beach in Maine? He closed his eyes and listened to the roar of the surf. Foamy water curled around his ankles and soaked his pant legs. She loved it here.
After a childhood of driving the highways of America, she’d chosen this as her home, a place where seafood was plentiful and her restaurant could flourish.
If she did return his feelings, if there was any chance at all of them making something out of what they’d begun last Christmas, he could learn to love it here, too.
But how could he take Meredith away from his parents? So much for going after what he wanted, he scoffed at himself, but they were her only grandparents.
Could be it was just a dream, anyway. He didn’t have to worry about it now.
Charlie walked along the beach, passing others who were out for a stroll, occasionally pausing to sit on an outcropping of rock and watch the silver-crested waves.
He pushed the button on his watch to discover it was after ten. He’d checked the yellow pages and had seen that the Hidden Treasure closed at nine on weeknights.
Back at the car, he brushed off hi
s feet and slipped them back into his shoes, then got in and drove to the address he’d memorized.
It was a small apartment building a few blocks from the beach, with a parking lot on the side. He parked across the street and stood away from the glare of a streetlight.
He didn’t know what kind of car she drove. He didn’t know her schedule. He just assumed that eventually he would see her or that he’d have the guts to knock on her door. If it was a security entrance, he’d have to identify himself.
Second thoughts about the wisdom of this trip plagued him. What if her father was wrong and there was a man? Just because they’d spent a few magical days and nights together didn’t mean she felt squat for him. If she was in a relationship and he showed up, he could cause a problem for her.
Feminine laughter reached him, and he focused his attention on two women walking from the corner, carrying bags and grocery sacks. They approached the door of the apartment building and the light over the doorway shone down on pale blond hair. Starla.
Charlie’s heart pounded with indecision. But one thought stood out above all the others. No one would expect Charlie McGraw to do anything this impulsive. That woman was his choice.
The fact gave him confidence and propelled him across the street and up onto the pavement near the door. Both women whirled in surprise at the sound of him running toward them.
An expression of concern and mistrust immediately crossed the dark-haired one’s face.
The other, Starla, wore an expression of amazed recognition. She shifted the bag in her arms.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
“What do you wa—” the dark-haired woman started to say, but Starla interrupted.
“Charlie?”
He took a few steps closer and nodded.
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