by Marta Perry
She tried to visualize it. Young people—kids, really—scrambling out of their boats with towels, blankets, hampers, intent on nothing more than a good time. Probably for her mother the excursion had been even more exciting because she’d known her father wouldn’t approve.
“Does your family come here often?” Did his father come back? That was what she really wanted to ask, but she couldn’t quite.
Adam shrugged, and she suspected he knew what was in her mind. “In the olden days, the Caldwell clan summered here. Before air-conditioning everyone headed for the outer islands if they could.”
Her father’s family had summered on Tybee Island, off Savannah. Those must have been happy times, but she could barely remember.
Adam brushed a gnat away from her face. “Let’s go inside before you get bitten.” He led the way around a last clump of crepe myrtle. “Here’s the cottage.”
She stopped next to him. It wasn’t a cottage at all, not that she’d expected it to be. The long, two-story building, its gray shingles merging into the gray-green background of trees and Spanish moss, stretched out a welcoming porch to them.
“I guess from what Clayton said the house was here when they had the party.”
Adam nodded. “It’s sat in that spot since the mid-1800s. Added onto and propped up now and then, but otherwise just the same. A summer haven for all the Caldwells. Uncle Clayton actually owns the island, but we all use it.”
Her imagination peopled the porch with a young version of her mother, the golden girl, and the two boys who’d loved her.
“Your uncle said Emily was in the kitchen. If that’s where she and your father talked, that must be where the dolphin was at the time.”
“Let’s have a look.” The words sounded casual, but she could feel the tension in his hand as he touched her elbow to lead her up the steps. He unlocked the door and ushered her inside.
“You’re welcome to look around the kitchen all you want.” He moved away from her quickly to throw open a shutter. “But there have been a few thousand meals cooked in there, probably, since that night. You won’t find anything.”
A shaft of sunlight pierced the window, touching the wide plank floor, the hooked rug, the massive fireplace. Chintz-covered couches sat in front of crowded bookcases. The warm, welcoming room seemed to say that people had been happy here, despite the disturbing events of one particular night.
“Adam—” What could she say? That she had to see for herself? He must already know that.
The swinging door probably led to the kitchen. She pushed through it and found herself in a square, open room. The counters were topped with linoleum, faded from years of scrubbing. White wooden cupboards, glass-fronted, showed off a mismatched assortment of enough dishes to feed an army. Probably every time someone in the family bought something new, the old set went to the cottage.
“I’m afraid there’s no place here where something could be hidden.” Adam leaned against the door frame, his easy smile saying he’d gotten his momentary irritation under control.
She flipped open a bottom cupboard door at random to display neatly arranged pots and pans. The Caldwells kept a clean cottage, regardless of how much or how little time they spent here.
“I guess you’re right. If it had been here, someone would have found it by now.” She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sure there are no secret passages or hidden cupboards?”
His face relaxed. “We spent some time looking for one on rainy days when we were kids, believe me. We were inspired by all those Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew mysteries on the shelves. Never found a thing.”
“What’s back here?” She pushed open the door on the other side of the kitchen to reveal a long room whose walls of windows seemed to invite the outdoors in.
“Game room, I guess you’d call it.” Adam came to stand behind her, nodding to the table-tennis outfit and card tables. “I don’t think this addition had been finished that summer, though. Maybe that’s what Clayton meant when he talked about the lumber pile.” Pain flickered in his eyes, and he seemed to force it away. “The kids are in and out of the closets all the time for games and toys, anyway.”
“What was here before?”
“Nothing, as far as I know.” He frowned. “I’m sorry, Tory. Judging from what Clayton said, most of the party must have centered outside. I’m afraid there’s nothing to find here. Except—”
“Except what?”
He shrugged, still frowning. “I guess I just look at the place with different eyes after hearing about that night.”
“I can see how that would be.” She hesitated, wondering if she could say anything that would make him feel better about what they’d learned. “I’m sorry. About what your uncle said last night, I mean. I know it wasn’t an easy thing to take.”
“Easy? No.” His lips tightened. “I’ve always known what my father’s like, though. I love him, but I know he doesn’t have the…” He shook his head as if he had to struggle to go on. “He doesn’t have the same standards as the rest of the Caldwell clan.”
“As you do,” she said softly, knowing that was true. Adam was an honorable man all the way through.
He shrugged. “Funny, isn’t it? My brother dealt with his feelings by rebelling. Before he left for college, our family life seemed to be one long shouting match for a while.”
“You don’t handle things that way.”
“Nothing so dramatic for me. I was the buffer between Matt and our father. Between Dad and the rest of the family, for that matter.”
She was almost afraid to breathe, afraid to disrupt the flow of his words.
“You still are, aren’t you?” she said softly.
The lines around his eyes deepened. “Someone has to be.”
“I guess so.” Pain laced her words. “Or else the family just blows apart.”
Adam put his hand lightly on her shoulder, his intent gaze focusing on her as if he looked into her heart and saw the hurt there. “That sounds like personal experience speaking.”
She wanted to back away, make some excuse, change the subject. But he’d opened up to her, and that couldn’t have been easy for him. She knew more about the skeletons in Adam’s family closet than anyone else did. It wasn’t fair to shut him out of hers.
“My father’s family never approved of my mother. After his death, they wanted her to let them raise me.” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “When she wouldn’t, they washed their hands of us.”
He blinked. “They must have kept in touch with you even if they didn’t like Emily.”
“Not a word. Not even a card on my birthday.” She shrugged, trying to pass it off casually, as if it didn’t still hurt. “I guess they figured losing me was a small price to pay for getting rid of her.”
His grip on her shoulder tightened. “There may have been things at work you didn’t understand as a child.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that?” The anger flared suddenly, startling her. “I wasn’t a child when I graduated from high school. My grandmother came to see me. She made me an offer. They’d pay my university expenses and bring me into Savannah society. All I had to do was promise to stay away from my mother.”
He didn’t respond for a long moment. Was he embarrassed? She never should have said anything.
“She was stupid,” he said finally.
Surprise brought her gaze up to meet his. “Why do you say that?”
He touched her cheek, the sensation featherlight but filled with a power that stole her breath away. “If she’d known anything about you, she’d have known what your response would be. She’d have known that someone who’d agree to her bargain wasn’t worth anything.”
“She didn’t see it that way.” Tory could still see her formidable grandmother, eyes cold as a glacier when she’d announced her terms. “Funny. I guess I knew even then that I wasn’t going to be able to save my mother from herself. But I sure wasn’t going to abandon her for the sake
of that woman’s money and position.”
Love with strings attached, that was what her grandmother offered. There were always strings attached. She might not have known a lot about people then, but she’d known she wouldn’t settle for that.
“I’m sorry.” His palm flattened against her cheek, cradling it. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I didn’t mean to bring back hurtful memories.”
She tried to smile, but the pressure of his skin against hers seemed to have paralyzed the muscles. “We seem destined to do that to each other.”
He shook his head. “We shouldn’t.” He barely breathed the words as he leaned closer.
He was going to kiss her. She should move, back away, say something. This wasn’t a good idea. But she couldn’t move. No matter how foolish it was, she wanted to be in his arms.
He was going to kiss her. Adam had a brief, rational instant when he knew this was a mistake. Then common sense was swamped by the need to hold her in his arms. He tilted her face up. Her eyes were dark with conflict, but she didn’t pull away.
He drew her closer and covered her lips with his. Her mouth was warm and sweet and willing, and the sensation filled him with longing and need. He felt her hands slip up his back to his shoulders, holding him more fully. He was dizzy with wanting her, but he knew, bone deep, that it was more than that. He’d never felt such a need to protect, to comfort, to love.
The thought set alarm bells clanging in whatever was left of his mind. This was a mistake, a big one. He couldn’t let himself think about loving any woman. He’d been there, he’d done that and he’d paid the price. And even if he could love again, it wouldn’t be Tory. Too much complicated history stood between them.
He drew back slowly, reluctantly. Tory’s eyes were dazed, and she braced her hands against his forearms as if he were her anchor.
He should say he was sorry, but he wasn’t. Even if there could never be anything between them, he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her once.
Twice, a little voice in his brain reminded him. Three times, if you count the night you kissed Cinderella at the yacht club dance.
All right, she had an effect on him. He’d recognized that from the start, hadn’t he?
Still the emotion had blindsided him as much as it had her. He brushed a strand of dark hair from her cheek. “I didn’t see that coming.”
She blinked, and her eyes no longer seemed dazzled. “No, I… It’s all right.” She tried to smile, seemed to gather her armor against rejection.
He couldn’t let her think— “Tory, it’s not you. I just can’t get involved.” He couldn’t explain to her what he didn’t understand himself.
“I know.” Her voice was soft. “You’re not ready for anyone else. You’re still in love with Lila.”
Her innocent words struck him like a blow. The truth beat at his brain as if demanding to be let out.
It had been one thing to let Tory believe a lie when she’d walked into his life. He’d been acting purely out of self-preservation. But now—now that he knew her, now that she’d opened up her own painful secrets to him—now it wasn’t right.
“I have to tell you something,” he said abruptly before he could talk himself out of it. “About my wife.”
She blinked again. Whatever she’d been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. “What about her?” She took a step back and bumped into the door frame.
“You think I oppose this memorial window because of grief.” He forced the words out. You think that’s why I can’t let myself care for you.
“I know.” Pain darkened her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
His jaw clenched. “It’s not grief. I don’t want a window to memorialize a lie.” The words he’d held back demanded to be said. “Lila was leaving us when she died. She was leaving Jenny and me to go with another man.”
Tory stared at him, eyes wide with shock. “But everyone I’ve spoken with thinks—”
“Everyone thinks what I’ve let them think. Everyone thinks Lila and I were madly in love. Just like I did.”
The harsh words tasted of bitterness. He walked away from her because he couldn’t be still, ending up with his hands braced against the worn kitchen counter.
It was silent in the old house, so silent he could hear the trill of a mockingbird in the distance. Then Tory’s footsteps crossed the floor behind him. Stopped.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone the truth?” She sounded as if she struggled to understand. “Isn’t it hard to pretend?”
“Hard? I’ll tell you what would be hard.” He swung to face her. “Hard would be letting my daughter know her mother was willing to give her up so she could run off with another man.”
“Jenny.” He heard her breath catch on the name.
“Jenny,” he repeated. “She can’t know that, ever. If that means I have to let all of Caldwell Cove grieve with the heartbroken widower, that’s what I’ll do.”
Tory lifted one hand as if she wanted to touch him, comfort him. Then she let it drop. Maybe she realized how futile that effort would be. Nothing could comfort this. “Lila’s mother doesn’t know, does she?”
“I don’t think so. If she did, I don’t think she’d want to have the memorial here in Caldwell Cove.”
“I’m sorry.” She sounded helpless. “I understand. But what can we do about it?”
“I don’t know.” For the last four years he’d known what he had to do and he’d gone on putting one foot in front of the other. Now, suddenly, because of Tory, he didn’t know.
“I don’t know,” he said again. “I just know I can’t walk into church every Sunday and look at a window memorializing a lie. I can’t do it, Tory.”
Chapter Ten
“This hurts too much.” Tory said the words aloud in the empty sanctuary. They seemed to linger under the arched wooden ceiling, almost as visible as the dust motes in a shaft of jewel-toned sunlight through the stained glass. “It’s not fair.”
When had love ever been fair? As soon as she thought the word, she wanted to cancel it. She didn’t love Adam. And he certainly didn’t have those feelings for her. He’d proved that when he’d backed away from her after those moments at the cottage on Saturday. He’d been distant ever since, even yesterday when he sat next to her for the Sunday service.
She leaned against the scaffolding, trying to get a handle on the hurt that felt as if a whale lay on her chest. She put her hand on the spot, willing it to go away. That didn’t work.
On the window above her, Jesus walked across the waves of a storm-tossed sea. From the water, Peter reached out to him in an agony of fear.
That was how she felt. Lost and afraid.
“This isn’t going to work, don’t You see that?” She said the words, then realized that for once in her life, her prayer wasn’t filled with antagonism. “It just isn’t going to work. I can’t help him.”
She shut her eyes. The light from the window dazzled on the blackness of her closed eyelids. If she gave up the window project—
That was what Adam wanted her to do. He hadn’t asked it directly even when he’d told her the truth about Lila. But she’d known.
She opened her eyes to look at the pictured face again. The image projected calm and peace even in the midst of the storm.
“Should I give it up?” She asked the question simply, without bargaining. “Should I?”
If she did, would that help Adam? She tried to look at it without letting thoughts of her business, her success or failure, intervene. Would giving up the project help Adam?
One thing had become crystal clear that day at the cottage. Adam carried a heavy load of bitterness against his late wife. He didn’t want to be reminded of those feelings every time he walked into the sanctuary that had been his place of worship all his life.
Understandable. But how could either of them get out of fulfilling this commitment?
“I just don’t know what to do.” That was honest, at least.
“About the new window? Or about tha
t grandson of mine?”
The question startled Tory away from the scaffolding. She spun to face the woman who stood inside the door to the Sunday school rooms.
“Mrs. Caldwell.” She had to catch her breath. “I didn’t realize anyone was here.”
The elderly woman came closer. “Thought you were going to call me Gran. And there’s always Someone here, child. You know that.”
Tory felt the wave of warmth in her cheeks. “I was talking to myself.”
“You were talking to the Lord,” Adam’s grandmother corrected. “Nothing wrong with that. I do it myself, all the time.”
It was impossible to go on feeling embarrassed when the woman looked at her with such understanding. “I’m afraid mostly I argue with Him.”
“Nothing wrong with that, either. I’ve done my share of arguing over the years, especially over the dolphin. Is that what’s troubling you?”
Tory rubbed her forehead, trying to ignore the stinging in her eyes. “I wanted to find it for my mother’s sake. I thought if I could do that one last thing for her…” She trailed off. She couldn’t talk about the weight she felt for Adam, for her mother’s memory.
“I know.” The elderly woman patted her hand. “We all have regrets, child. Things we wish we’d done differently, things we want to make up. But maybe, however much we want it, we’re not meant to find the dolphin now.”
“Then what good has all this been?” The question burst out. “Why did I come here?”
“We can’t always know what God has in mind. Don’t you lose faith in what He has for you.” She gripped Tory’s hand tightly, her own firm and strong. Suddenly, surprisingly, she leaned forward and kissed Tory’s cheek. Without saying another word, she turned and went out.
Tory sank down in the nearest pew. Were You speaking to me through Adam’s grandmother, Lord? Were You?
She leaned forward to grasp the pew in front of her and closed her eyes. In the stillness, she listened.
Nothing about the situation with Tory had gone as he’d expected. Adam frowned at the invoices scattered over his desk. He should be working, and instead he kept obsessing about Tory.