by Marta Perry
Miranda didn’t think that way, of course. Still, even her bright innocence had been damaged by their brief marriage. How much would she have to change to fit into his world? Would she consider marriage worth what she’d have to sacrifice?
He clutched the cell phone and slid it into his pocket. He wasn’t used to doubting himself or his decisions. He most definitely wasn’t used to letting someone else take care of something as crucial as finding out the motive behind sending him that photograph.
His edginess could be attributed to that fact, he realized. He hated waiting for someone to call and tell him. He wanted to be involved.
Well, why not? He could go to Charleston, get on the private investigator’s back, keep after him until they found out the truth.
Just the idea of doing something positive in this situation energized him. He grabbed a tie and knotted it automatically as he headed out the door. He’d have to let Miranda know what he intended, and then he could be on his way.
His mind raced ahead to the road to Charleston as he trotted down the stairs. He glanced into the dining room. Sallie Caldwell was clearing tables, but Miranda was nowhere in sight.
She was probably in the office. She often used these morning hours to catch up on her book work after the flurry of getting breakfast.
He pushed open the office door. Miranda looked up from a stack of envelopes on the desk, her mouth softening in a smile at the sight of him. The green shirt she wore accentuated the sparkle of her eyes. If she’d lain wakeful after what they’d learned, it didn’t show.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
He didn’t want to tell her he’d been unable to oust the private investigator’s call from his mind long enough to get a good night’s sleep.
“Okay.” He crossed to the desk and leaned one hip against it. “What are you working on?”
“Sorting through the bills.” She wrinkled her nose. “I have to confess, it’s not my favorite chore, but it has to be done.”
“Speaking of chores, I’ve decided to go to Charleston today. I want to push the private investigator for results.” The need to take action pricked at his nerves, demanding movement.
Miranda’s face clouded at his words. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Everything in him steeled at her opposition. “I can’t just sit around and wait, Miranda. I’d think you’d be as eager as I am to get this thing cleared up.”
“Of course I am.” Her voice was tart. “But you’re forgetting what day this is.”
His gaze sought the large calendar posted on the wall behind the desk. Had he missed a holiday?
“Sammy’s off from school today, and we promised to take him to Angel Isle, remember?”
The realization that he’d let something so important to Sammy slip hit a sore spot. It might be more difficult than he’d expected to avoid repeating his father’s mistakes.
He pushed himself erect. “I didn’t remember we’d planned that trip for today, that’s true. That doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—” She stopped, shook her head. “Sorry. Just because I keep Sammy’s calendar in my head doesn’t mean that you have to. I’m used to juggling what everyone’s doing.”
If they married, they’d have to find a way to get past this kind of misunderstanding. Again he wondered if she’d find the benefits of marriage worth the cost.
He shook off the thought. One thing at a time. He had to get this business of the photo resolved.
“Look, can’t we postpone the trip to another day?” He gestured toward the window. “Cloudy as it is, it’s not a nice day for an outing, anyway.”
“Sammy’s not going to think a few clouds are a good enough excuse not to take the boat out. If you want to change the plans, you’d better talk to him.”
She picked up an envelope and slit it open. Apparently she was ready to get on with her work, no matter what her attitude was.
“I thought maybe you’d tell him for me.” He leaned forward persuasively. “You could explain I had to go in to work.”
“Not a chance.” She glanced at him, and he saw the amusement in her eyes. “Nice try, but I’m not going to be the bearer of bad news for you. I’ve already told you that. You’ll have to do it yourself.”
Apparently Miranda had been giving some thought to how this whole parenting thing worked out between them, too.
“So Daddy doesn’t just get to be the giver of gifts and leave the unpopular stuff to Mommy.”
“That’s right. Breaking bad news is equal opportunity. If you want—” She stopped abruptly.
The smile slid from his face. Miranda was staring at the paper she’d pulled out of an envelope, and her face had grown pale under the tan.
“Miranda? What is it?” He went quickly around the desk to put his hand on her shoulder. “Bad news?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at him, her expression apprehensive. “I’m not sure what this means.”
“What is it?” He leaned over, focusing on the paper in her hand. A phone bill, he realized. “Bell South make a costly mistake?”
“It’s last month’s itemized long-distance calls.” She pointed to a line. “That’s a call he made—the man who took the picture of Sammy. I recognize the area code.” She looked at him, eyes wide. “He called someone in Baltimore.”
“What?” He snatched the page from her, running his gaze along the column to find the call, anticipation mounting. This was an unexpected stroke of luck. Maybe he wouldn’t have to wait for the investigator to pry loose the information. The telephone number would be a shortcut.
He stared, his mind unwillingly processing the information in front of him.
“Tyler?” Miranda pushed her chair back to stand very close to him, her hair brushing his shoulder as she leaned over to look at the bill. “Why are you looking that way?”
“Because I know the number.” Certainty hardened in him. “It happens to be the private number of a man I’d have said I could trust with almost anything. My assistant, Henry Carmichael.”
“Your assistant? I don’t understand.” She leaned against his arm as she studied the bill. “How can that be? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, all right.” Already the shock was passing, to be replaced with anger that ate its way along his veins. “Good old Henry has sold me out.”
“You can’t know that.” Miranda’s response was swift. “There might be a dozen explanations.”
“Name one.” He shot the words at her, annoyed at her naiveté.
“Well, suppose he found out about Sammy somehow and just thought you should know. He could have been trying to do a good thing.”
“If he thought that, he’d have told me.”
“But—”
“Forget it, Miranda. I know exactly what happened. I could practically write the script. Henry’s doing something he doesn’t want me to find out about, and he looked for something that would distract me.” Bitterness edged his words. If there was anyone he thought he could rely on, it was Henry. He’d been wrong.
“Why would he do that? I don’t understand.”
No, she wouldn’t. The people she knew didn’t do things like that.
“At a guess, it’s something to do with this deal we’ve been working on. There’s a lot of money at stake. Possibly someone from a rival firm made Henry an offer too good to pass up. It might be worth a lot to be sure I was otherwise occupied at the crucial time.”
Conviction formed even as he said the words. That had to be it.
“How can you be so sure?” Miranda obviously thought he was jumping to conclusions.
“The timing’s too perfect. They’d think with me out of the way and only Josh left in the office from the family, they’d have clear sailing. Well, they’re going to find they’re wrong.” Fury hardened to implacable determination.
“What are you going to do?” Apprehension filled her voice. Because she was worried about him? He wasn’t sure
.
“I’m going to Baltimore.” He spun, the telltale bill clutched in his hand. “Henry’s going to regret this to his dying day, I can promise you that.”
“Tyler, please listen for a moment.”
“Maybe my father had a point, after all. Don’t rely on anyone else, that’s what he always said. They’ll let you down every time.” He stalked to the doorway. “Well, this time they’re not going to get away with it.”
She took a step toward him. “Please, don’t go into this angry. Don’t do something you’ll regret later.”
He shook his head, making an effort to focus on Miranda’s face. “This is business.”
Funny. That was the phrase he’d heard all his life, always said meaning that this was more important than anything else.
“Maybe you should let Josh handle it.”
“No.”
He saw the hurt in her eyes at his abrupt tone. He was sorry for it, but he couldn’t do anything else. This was something he had to take care of himself.
Miranda didn’t understand that. The truth was, she probably never would.
Miranda sank into her chair, staring at the closed door. Tyler was leaving. From the moment she’d shown him that bill, his path was as irreversible as a tidal wave. He hadn’t given a thought to Sammy or to her once his decision was made.
Please, Lord. The prayer came automatically, then she realized she didn’t know what to pray for.
Please, Father, be with Tyler. He’s angry, but he’s hurting, too. Someone he trusted has betrayed him, and he’s not even going to admit how painful it is.
Tyler’s face formed in her mind, hard and implacable. He looked like the man he’d been when he arrived on the island. She hadn’t realized how much he’d changed in the past weeks until that moment.
Don’t let him turn back into that person, Lord. How can he be the father Sammy needs if all he thinks of is business?
She sat for a long time, her head bent to her folded hands, trying to see her path. Finally she stood.
She probably couldn’t change his decision to go to Baltimore and handle the situation himself. Maybe he did have to. But perhaps she could help him see that revenge wasn’t the answer. For his sake, she had to try.
She walked up the steps slowly, running her hand along the rail that had been worn smooth by generations of hands. Where were the words that would reach him?
Tyler had made so much progress with Sammy. She couldn’t let that slip away in his obsession with punishing the man he’d trusted. At the very least, he should talk with Sammy. If he explained why he had to go away, Sammy would understand. He could have confidence that his father would be back.
If he’d be back. The thought chilled her. She’d been making assumptions about his time here, about what his relationship with Sammy would be.
Maybe she’d been making assumptions about his relationship with her. Hadn’t those kisses meant anything? Didn’t they mean she was a part of his life, to be included in the decisions he made?
Maybe not. She forced herself to beat down the whimpering little voice that wanted to cry about her needs, her longings. She couldn’t do anything about that. She had to try to do something about Tyler’s role as Sammy’s father.
The door to his room stood ajar, and when she knocked on it, it swung open. Tyler turned, and she realized he was simultaneously talking on the phone and packing a bag.
His frown lightened as he motioned her in.
“Look, everything you say is true.” He spoke into the phone. “I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention to your concerns earlier.”
He was talking to his brother, obviously. Well, if Tyler was able to admit to Josh that he hadn’t been perfect, that was an encouraging sign.
She took the shirt he’d been trying to fold one-handed and folded it neatly, then put it into the open case on the bed. She looked at him, raising her eyebrows in a question.
He nodded and pointed to a heap of clothing at the foot of the bed. She began packing it, a small measure of relief filtering through her concern. At least he wasn’t packing everything. He must intend to come back.
“No, I don’t want you to do that.”
For a moment she thought he meant her, and her hands stilled. Then she realized he was talking to Josh.
“Look, I know you mean well, but don’t do anything until I get there. I’ll call you the minute I reach the city. In the meantime, just keep an eye on him.” His voice hardened to implacability. “I don’t want Henry to suspect a thing.”
He snapped the phone shut and paced to the table, where he began sorting through papers. “Thanks, Miranda.” He sounded a thousand miles away already. “I want to get on the road to the airport as quickly as possible.”
Could she say anything that would deflect his obvious desire for revenge against the person who’d wronged him? “It sounded as if your brother wanted to handle this.”
“He wanted to. He’s not going to.” His tone told her that any discussion of that subject would be useless.
She switched gears. “Before you go, you need to explain to Sammy why you’re leaving.”
He slanted a look at her, his expression harassed. “I’m kind of in a hurry here, Miranda. Can’t you explain it to him?”
“No, I can’t.” She had to make Tyler understand. “This isn’t just a matter of postponing the trip we planned to take today. The fact that you’re leaving will upset him. You have to be the one to reassure him.”
The stern lines of his face softened, and she knew she’d reached him.
“Okay. You’re right. I don’t want my son getting the message from someone else that I’ve left.”
He was comparing himself with his father again, she supposed. Maybe that was a good thing, if it meant he was determined not to make the same mistakes.
“Thank you, Tyler. When you’re talking to him I hope you won’t—”
He lifted his eyebrows “Won’t what?”
This was difficult. “I think it’s better if he doesn’t feel that you’re out for revenge against your assistant, no matter what he’s done to you.”
“A matter of values?” His voice was soft, and she couldn’t tell whether he was angry or not.
“He’s been taught that seeking revenge is wrong,” she said firmly. “I don’t want him getting mixed messages about that.”
Their gazes clashed for a moment. Then he nodded. “All right. I won’t promise to change how I deal with Henry, but I certainly won’t discuss it with Sammy. Still, he’s going to have to understand that sometimes business has to take priority. That doesn’t mean I love him any less.”
That was probably the best she was going to get from him on that subject.
“I think Sammy will understand that.” She put the last shirt in the suitcase. “Do you want anything else packed?” She gestured toward the closet.
“No.” He stepped away from the desk, putting out his hand toward her. “Stay a minute, Miranda. There’s something else I want to talk with you about.”
To her surprise he looked uncertain. That wasn’t an expression she was used to seeing on Tyler’s face, and it sent a shiver of apprehension through her.
“Is anything wrong?”
“Not exactly. I’ve just been giving a lot of thought to what our lives are going to be like in the future—Sammy’s, yours, mine. I’m sure you’ve been doing the same thing.”
She nodded. Tyler didn’t need to know she had been cherishing some totally unreasonable hopes about that life.
“We’ll have to work out some kind of schedule so that he sees you often.”
“You said once that he wasn’t a package to be shipped back and forth. I didn’t understand what you meant then, but I do now.”
She wasn’t sure where he was headed. “If Sammy’s going to spend time with you in Baltimore, I guess he’ll have to get used to traveling. That’s the only option.”
“It’s not the best one.” He crossed the few feet between them and
took both of her hands in his. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. I think I know what’s best for Sammy. He needs to have his parents together. We need to be a real family.”
Her knees went suddenly weak. “Wh—what do you mean?” He couldn’t mean what she thought he did.
“I want you to marry me, Miranda.” His grasp tightened, sending a thousand unspoken messages along her skin. “Will you marry me again?”
Her heart swelled until she thought it would burst out of her chest and float to the ceiling. Tyler loved her. After all that had happened, after all this time, Tyler loved her. They were going to have the marriage she’d always dreamed about.
Apparently taking her stunned silence for doubt, he rubbed his fingers over her knuckles. “I wanted to bring this up now so you can think it over while I’m away.”
Think it over? Some caution sounded through the singing in her soul.
“Look, I know this won’t be the romantic fairy tale we once thought we’d have, but we’re not those young kids anymore, are we?”
It took a moment to process his words. I am, she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. She could only look at him, feeling the hope drain out of her.
“You must see that marriage is the sensible solution. It’s not as though either of us is involved with anyone else. We both want to put Sammy first, and getting married is the best way to do that, don’t you agree?”
A business deal. Obviously that was all this was to him. He didn’t imagine marriage could mean anything else to her.
He was waiting for her answer. He’d said he wanted to give her time to consider, but he obviously didn’t think it was necessary. He expected her to agree with him.
The longing to do just that overwhelmed her. She wanted—oh, how much she wanted—to say yes. To be Tyler’s wife again, the way she longed to be.
It wasn’t right. She knew that deep in her soul. God wanted more for His dearly loved children than that. Whether Tyler knew it or not, they both deserved better from marriage.