by Peggy Webb
“You look a little pale around the gills,” she said when he came back.
“If you weren’t my angel rescuer I’d say you did that deliberately.”
She loved it when he called her his angel. Now why was that? She’d never been one for pet names. Skylar was alarmed. Spend one night with Daniel, and she was turning into a sentimental woman.
Lord, what would she do next?
She knew what she had to do—get him out of her house, and then out of her life. Any way she could. He was far, far too dangerous.
“I suppose my car is still at the club?” Daniel said.
“Yes. It’s safe, though. Pete runs a tight ship.”
“Pete?”
“Pete Sanford, the owner. He’s an old friend of mine. From the early days of the band.”
“I know him. Played football with him in high school.”
So Daniel had played football. Not that it mattered. Skylar didn’t want to know any more about him than she already did.
“I’ll take you down there to pick it up.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can get a cab.”
“I don’t mind. I need to get out anyhow. I don’t have anything to eat in this house except cat food or I’d offer you some breakfast.”
“Just the thought of food makes me queasy.”
Suddenly he was across the kitchen, holding her hand. Skylar felt the shock all the way to her toes.
“I can never thank you enough for everything you did for me last night, Skylar.”
“I would say, anytime, but you’re not the kind of man who needs rescuing except under extreme circumstances.” The look he gave her turned her to putty. “I’ll get my car keys.”
They didn’t say much in the car, though Daniel still had a dozen questions tumbling through his mind. He wanted to ask more about last night, about how they’d ended up in bed together, but he figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, particularly that one.
When they got to the parking lot, she turned to him and put her hand on his arm.
“Daniel, I want you to know that I won’t say a word about last night. To anyone.”
“You’re more than generous.”
“Don’t pin any medals on me.”
There was nothing left to say except goodbye. Daniel thanked her once again, and as he was leaving her car, she called out his name.
“Daniel…” He leaned into the car so he could see her face. “You’re a good man, and nothing that happened last night should make you doubt your ability to continue your ministry.”
“Thank you, Skylar.”
She gave him the victory sign. “Onward and upward, preacherman.”
Daniel stood in the parking lot watching until she had disappeared, and then he climbed in his car and drove to Belle Rose, hoping no one was home.
He needed a shower and a shave, but most of all he needed some time to himself before he had to go back to the nursing home and faced his family. Not that they would question him. About anything. He was fortunate to have the most accepting, most loving family on the face of the earth.
But at the moment, their needs exceeded his capacity. He had nothing left to offer them. He was used up. Empty. A boat stripped of its moorings, adrift on an unknown sea.
Chapter Fourteen
Daniel saw the message light when he walked through the door. It was a call from Hannah.
“I’ll be coming into the airport at two. Don’t bother to pick me up. I’ll rent a car. I’ll need one anyhow.”
That was good news and bad. Hannah was a strong woman, and she’d be wonderful support for their mother. Just being in the same room with Hannah was like standing in front of a bracing ocean breeze. On the other hand, she’d see right through Daniel. His mother and Emily were soft, gentle women, easygoing, never prying.
Hannah was astute and observant, and considered it her duty to make sure every member of her family was on the right path. In her view, problems were not merely to be solved; they were to be tackled, wrestled to the ground, subdued and crushed out.
One look at Daniel and she’d be off on a crusade to set him straight. And he didn’t even like to think of her meeting Skylar. Lord have mercy. Two strong-willed woman. It would be a clash of Titans.
Unless Hannah was too distracted by Michael’s condition to notice….
“Fat chance,” Daniel muttered.
Then, supporting his head with the palms of his hands, Daniel went upstairs to make himself presentable enough to face his family.
When he got to the nursing home, Daniel found Hannah and his mother sitting beside Michael’s bed watching an old movie and laughing their heads off.
“Come on over here, Daniel. We’re watching Laurel and Hardy. Michael loves them.” His mother smoothed back his father’s hair. “Don’t you, darling?”
Hannah shot him a look that said, Mother’s losing touch here, and Daniel was quick to defend her.
“That’s a great idea, Mom. You never know what will trigger an awakening.” He gave Hannah a quick hug. “Hey, big sis.”
“Hey, yourself, and don’t call me sis. You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” Hannah was deliberately baiting him with that kind of language, but Daniel refused to bite. Instead he pulled a chair to the other side of the bed, sat down with considerable relief and said, “Hey, Dad, how’s it going?”
He’d forgotten how much a night of carousing took out of a man.
“Here comes the good part,” Anne said, then much to Daniel’s relief she took up a running commentary, leaning close to the bed, speaking in tender tones, stroking Michael and laughing softly.
Watching them, Daniel’s heart ached. Not just for his parents, but for himself, as well. Would he ever know such love?
Skylar came unbidden to his mind. The way she’d looked in her blue sequined gown standing in the smoky bar singing. And in the car….
With his mother’s gentle murmuring as background, memories blossomed as surely as long-buried seeds seeking the sun. Of how he’d kissed Skylar. And where. And how it had felt. Like being reborn. Like paradise.
He remembered waking in the middle of the night, constricted by his clothing, disoriented, then falling against the brass footrail. And she was there, standing barefoot and reaching for his white shirt.
Suddenly, he’d known he couldn’t be alone. He’d held out his hand to her and she’d come to him, come to him with a soft smile on her lips. Then he’d wrapped his arms around her and led her to the bed….
And slept the sweetest sleep of his life.
It felt like love. Like the kind of love that would last a lifetime and beyond. A sweet loving, giving relationship that would stand strong against any slings and arrows the world might toss their way.
And slings and arrows would come. Of that Daniel had no doubt. He could even name a likely source or two. Not the least of which was his pastor/parish relations committee.
“Daniel…?”
The movie was over, it was quiet in the room and Hannah was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. In a way, he had. Here he was daydreaming about a relationship with Skylar Tate when she hated his profession and merely tolerated him.
Or did she? If memory served, she’d kissed him with as much passion as he’d felt when he’d kissed her.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. What were you saying?”
“Where were you, bro?”
When? Last night?
“Woolgathering,” he said, hoping to get by with it.
Hannah gave him another look, then let his remark slide.
“I asked if you wanted to take your big sister out to dinner tonight?”
“Sure. What about Em and Jake?”
“Those two are so wrapped up in each other they don’t even know we’re on the same planet. Besides, they said they wanted to come here and spend some time with Mom and Dad this evening.”
“They’re bringing catfish and hushpuppies.” Anne laughed. “I’m going to get f
at with all this attention.” As always she turned to include Michael in the conversation. “If you don’t wake up soon, darling, you won’t even know me. I’m turning into a roly-poly.”
“Don’t believe a word she says, Dad,” Hannah chimed in. “She’s gorgeous. If I looked like Mom I’d have men crawling all over me.”
The lively give-and-take seemed so normal that for a moment Daniel believed again, believed in the power of miracles, the power of hope, the power of love.
“Don’t believe it, Dad. If Hannah had men clamoring for her attention, she’d be knocking them off with a ten-foot shillelagh.”
“I don’t know so much about that, Daniel,” his mother said. “Hannah’s a strong, independent woman, but she has a lot of love to give.”
“I’d like to meet the man who can win our Hannah.”
“Help, Dad,” Hannah said. “I’m outnumbered.”
Jake and Emily arrived in the midst of the friendly bantering, holding hands, smiling and bearing food.
“What’s so funny in here?” Emily asked.
Hannah and Daniel pointed to each other, then cracked up again. Anne finally shooed them out the door.
“Where do you want to eat?” Daniel asked when they were outside in the parking lot.
“The Biscuit Company Café. I’ve been dreaming about one of their po’boys ever since I left Yellowstone.”
“We’ll take my car,” Daniel said, expecting an argument. Hannah always liked to be in charge.
“Fine.” She slid into the passenger side. “Maybe they’ll have a good blues band playing,” she said, and Daniel immediately thought of Skylar.
“Hey, where’d you go?”
“Woolgathering again.”
“I don’t buy it.” Hannah twisted around so she could study him. “What’s going on with you, Daniel?”
“Why do you ask?”
“God, I hate it when you do that. Answer a question with a question. You know very well what I mean, and don’t think you can weasel out of an answer, because you can’t.”
All of a sudden Daniel realized that he needed somebody to talk to. Not just anybody, but Hannah. She might offer him unsolicited advice; she might tell him things he didn’t want to hear, but in the end she would accept whatever decision he made because she believed in him and she loved him unconditionally.
There was a certain comfort in that, in knowing that he was part of a family with strong bonds. Why had he ever believed he was adrift? As long as he had a family who loved him, he was always tethered to a safe port.
“I’ll tell you as soon as we get to the restaurant.”
And he would. At least part of it.
As soon as their orders were taken he leaned toward his older sister.
“I’ve met a woman,” he said.
“Who is she?”
“Skylar Tate.”
“Skylar Tate? The singer?” He nodded. “The star of that hot video…what’s it called?”
Every muscle he had was knotted; every nerve ending twanging.
“Yes. That Skylar Tate.”
Hannah laughed so hard she had to wipe her face with her napkin, while Daniel sat like a man turned to stone. This could be either a very good sign or his worst nightmare come true. He didn’t attempt to interrupt her interlude of hilarity, but waited for it to end.
“Thank God,” she said. “I was afraid you were going to get stuck with some little Miss Goody Two-shoes who was so sanctimonious she wouldn’t even blow her nose on Sunday.”
“Then you approve?” Daniel didn’t know why that should surprise him. The Westmorelands could never be accused of conventionality.
“Wholeheartedly. When can I meet her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I said I like this woman; I didn’t say she liked me back.”
“What’s not to like?”
“She hates preachers.”
“Why?”
“Her father was one, apparently one of those hidebound moralists who disapproved of everything his daughter did.”
“That had to be tough on her.”
Hannah looked out the window at the river for a while, mulling over the problem the way she always did, and when she turned back and smiled, Daniel realized just how beautiful she was. Spectacular, really. He would have been amazed that at thirty-two his sister was still unattached if he hadn’t known that her love for adventure superseded everything else. Except family.
And in that respect, she was a carbon copy of their father.
“What’s she like, Daniel?” Hannah finally asked.
“Unconventional, as you would expect. Feisty. Strong-willed.”
“I like this girl already.”
“And she has one of the softest, kindest hearts I’ve ever known.”
“Women like that are easily hurt, Daniel.”
“I know. I would never do anything to hurt her.”
“I know you wouldn’t. Furthermore, I know you would never try to change her into some prissy little wimp who would meet with everybody’s approval.”
“By everybody, you mean my congregation?”
“Precisely.”
“No. I would never do that.”
What he didn’t tell Hannah, what he couldn’t tell anyone was that he wasn’t sure he’d have a congregation once he returned to Atlanta. Not because of what had happened at Babe’s, but because of what was happening inside his own heart and soul.
“If you really want Skylar Tate, don’t let anything stand in your way. Not anything. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
She wasn’t talking merely about differences between him and Skylar, but about their family’s situation. She was saying to him the same thing he’d heard Anne say to Emily. Life goes on.
Hannah reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
“Daniel, don’t let this one get away.”
Chapter Fifteen
From the diary of Anne Beaufort Westmoreland:
September 23, 200l
It’s quiet now. All the children have gone, Emily and Jake back to Belle Rose, and probably Hannah and Daniel, too, by now. As much as I love having them all here, I enjoy my time alone with Michael.
The doctor came back around ten and said he was showing a slight improvement, which is encouraging. Of course, I didn’t need a doctor to tell me that. I felt it myself, early this morning.
Clarice called a little while ago. She’s still worried about me. I told her she was worrying about the wrong person, that Michael was the one she should be thinking about. She says I’m losing my spark, and that tomorrow while the children are here to stay with Michael (she knows good and well I’m not going to leave him alone) she’s going to take me to get a manicure and a facial even if she has to drag me kicking and screaming.
I admit I could use both, but what I really want to do is clean house. Top to bottom. Oh, I know. I know. I have a housekeeper. More than a housekeeper, really. Sissy June’s been with the Beaufort family so long she’s more like family to me than some of mother’s sisters.
Anyhow…back to cleaning my house. I feel the need to get Michael’s study shipshape. (He has always been so well-organized. Almost a neatnik. But then, I guess that’s what comes of years of climbing mountains. He learned to pare down to the essentials. And God knows, he had to be organized. There’s no such thing as taking time to search for an ice ax in the midst of a climb.)
But more than cleaning, I feel the need to touch his books, to read his journals, his diaries (he’s better than I at recording events). If I can find them.
And I want Clarice to be with me when I do. Not the children. I don’t want them to see me cry. And I know I’ll cry if (no, when) I find my precious husband’s personal papers.
I know he won’t mind. I know he’ll understand.
Still, I’ll tell him what I’m going to do. Tonight when I climb into bed beside him, I’ll put my arms around his still-s
trong chest and say, “Darling, I’m losing touch with you. I don’t know what you’re thinking anymore, and I’m scared. I need something to bring back a sense that you are present, and that’s why I’m going to go prying into your private papers.
“Tell me it’s all right, my love. Give me some sign. Anything. Please.”
I’m feeling desperate again, and I think Clarice senses that. I told her about watching the old Laurel and Hardy comedies, and how we all laughed. I confessed to her that my laughter was as fake as crocodile tears. That I was doing it for the children as much as for Michael.
She said to me, “Anne what you need is a good cry. And I know I do. I know.”
But I can’t cry. Not yet. There is another night to get through. Another night holding onto the shell of my beloved.
I’ll cry tomorrow.
Chapter Sixteen
Daniel and Hannah didn’t leave the Biscuit Company Café until after ten, and when he turned onto the driveway at Belle Rose, his sister grabbed his arm.
“Stop the car,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just want to drink it all in.” She sighed. “I always forget how beautiful Belle Rose is. God, look at that moon, Daniel. Everything looks washed clean in the moonlight, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” Except our hearts and souls. “Ready?” he asked, shifting the car into gear.
“Ready.”
Instead of parking in the garage, he pulled up in front of the house. Hannah twisted around to study him.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“No. I’m going to Babe’s…to see Skylar.”
“Good.” Smiling, Hannah patted his arm. “I hope you can get everything worked out, Daniel. And I mean everything.”
So, he hadn’t fooled his sister. Not that he’d expected to. She’d seen right through him, seen that something more was going on inside him than concern over a practically impossible relationship.
“Do you think Mom suspects anything?” he asked.
“No. She’s totally wrapped up in Dad…Daniel, nobody expects miracles from you.”
“You do have a knack for cutting to the heart of the matter, don’t you?”
