Her Heart's Promise

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Nadine let her friend’s words rest in her soul, and for a moment, she was tempted to give in. To let go. To stop fighting.

  “It won’t bring your father back,” Elaine said.

  “I know that,” she said, unable to keep the prickly tone from her voice. “But, I feel, in my heart, they were responsible. I can’t let the company that I think callously ignored my father’s death get off scot-free.”

  Elaine nodded. “And what about Clint?”

  “What about him?”

  “You know he’ll end up in trouble over this.”

  “I had an empty spot I needed to fill,” Nadine said defensively. “With the ‘Face Off’ column, it’s a perfect fit. Skyline has been on the receiving end of a few kickbacks and government grants.” Nadine smiled feebly, trying to erase the unease Elaine’s words created. “Besides, I needed something serious to balance photos of beaming farmers holding up monster vegetables.”

  “Why don’t you leave poor Clint alone?” Elaine continued. “He’s got enough on his plate.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Elaine took the last, tiny bite of her bagel, frowning. “A nagging partner, a potential lawsuit, and a stubborn employee who won’t listen. That’s more than enough,” she mumbled. She finished her bagel and wiped her fingers off with a napkin. “But you don’t want to talk about Clint or Skyline, so tell me about your date with Trace instead.”

  Nadine gladly took up the change in topic. “He’s very nice. He’s funny. He’s good-looking.”

  “And Grandma?”

  Nadine blew out her breath. “She’s coming around.” Which was a huge exaggeration.

  “Now that she’s met your boyfriend, is she going to give up? Move out?”

  “She hasn’t said.”

  “I gather he doesn’t meet her full approval.”

  Nadine shook her head and finished her sandwich.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Nadine wiped her fingers and sighed.

  “I can’t understand why you have so much trouble with her.” Elaine leaned forward, smiling. “Goodness knows she’s smaller than you.”

  “She’s also incredibly stubborn and obtuse. When I try to get a definite date, she gently reminds me of all she did for me and my mom.” Nadine set her napkin aside. “That’s where I cave.”

  “That’s easy enough. Take some of the stuff you dish out to Clint and save it for Grandma. Might work.”

  “What is with you?” Nadine asked, surprised at the return to her boss. “What comments are you talking about?”

  “Those snide comments you’re always tossing at him. You could use them on Grandma.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. I love my grandma.”

  “And you dislike Clint?” Elaine asked.

  “I don’t dislike him. We just seem to strike sparks off each other.” Sparks that made her uneasy.

  “I think you do more striking than he does.”

  “Where does that come from?” asked Nadine, uncomfortable with what her friend inferred. “How come suddenly you’re on his side?”

  “I’m not on anyone’s ‘side.’ I’ve just been watching you and him, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had a crush on the man,” she said as she pulled her debit card out of her purse.

  “Are you crazy?” Nadine scrambled to her feet, dragging her camera bag along with her. “Where in the world do you come off saying something like that?”

  “If you don’t like him, why do you pay so much attention to him?” Elaine walked to the front of the inn. Cory was already behind the register. “I got lunch,” she said to Nadine as she swiped her card and punched in her number.

  “Thanks for that, and just for the record, I don’t pay that much attention to Clint.”

  “Have a great day, Cory,” Elaine said, sauntering out of the inn, leaving a confused Nadine and an obviously interested Cory.

  Nadine caught up to her friend.

  “Okay. What were you talking about back there?” Nadine jogged up beside Elaine.

  Elaine stopped. “I was talking about the way you treat Clint. You can’t resist any chance to give him a dig or a snide comment.”

  Why would Elaine say that? “I don’t treat him that bad,” she protested. She thought back to her comments to Clint, trying to see them from Elaine’s viewpoint. “Considering that he broke my sister’s heart.”

  “Why do you still care? That was eons ago.”

  Nadine caught a note of reproach and thought again of her confrontation with Clint at her apartment. She’d had time to regret it, but it was done now.

  “Besides, what has he ever done to you?”

  Nadine looked away, rubbing her hand along the strap of her bag, trying to remember. “Give me a couple of days; I’ll come up with something.” Saying aloud the other reason she struggled with Clint would make her look small and petty. The fact that he preferred her sister to her, like every other guy?

  Elaine nodded. “The truth is you can’t think of any one incident. If you can’t think of any time he’s been miserable to you, you might want to wonder why you pay so much attention to him.” She winked at Nadine and stepped into the office.

  Chapter 7

  “You’re wearing a skirt, Nadine?” Grandma set her cup of tea down and stared at her granddaughter as she stepped into the kitchen.

  “Trace is picking me up right after work for a date tonight.”

  She had topped the skirt with a loose sweater and, in a fit of whimsy, wound a gauzy, patterned scarf around her neck and tucked the ends in. She had curled her hair and taken time to brush her eyelashes with mascara and her eyelids with a faint dusting of gold eye shadow. Nadine couldn’t recall when she’d purchased the rarely worn makeup—maybe for Leslie’s wedding? Or was it Sabrina’s? Nadine was surprised that the mascara hadn’t dried up.

  “You look very nice,” Grandma said approvingly. “The makeup looks good, as well. Sets off your pretty eyes.”

  “Thanks, Grandma.” Nadine laughed as she bent over and kissed Barbara’s cheek. “I’m trying not to feel fake,” she admitted, sitting to breakfast. She wondered if she would make it to the end of the day before the hair hanging around her jawline drove her nuts.

  “Well, you will turn a few heads, I’m sure.” Grandma nodded her approval, and Nadine felt a little better. “Clint Fletcher won’t recognize you.”

  “I didn’t do this for my boss,” Nadine said more sharply than she had intended.

  “Of course not.” Barbara smiled. “I’m sure Trace will like the way you look.”

  Nadine was mollified by her grandmother’s encouraging comments. “Thanks, Grandma.”

  They ate their breakfast in silence, Grandma reading the paper and Nadine reviewing her notes for tomorrow’s interview. When Nadine left the apartment, she felt ready to face the world.

  “Good morning, Julie.” Nadine breezed into the office, pausing at the desk to check for any mail or messages.

  Julie looked up from an ad she was writing with a smile that froze on her face when she caught sight of her editor. “Nadine?” she said, her voice weak with surprise.

  Nadine grinned back and flipped a hand through her hair. “Do I look that different today?”

  “Different enough.” Julie shook her head. “The Nadine I know wouldn’t wear a skirt except to church, and she certainly would never put on eye shadow.”

  “People change,” she murmured, taking her mail out of the slot.

  “Do they ever.” Clint’s disbelieving voice behind her made her head snap up.

  Nadine kept her eyes straight ahead, feeling suddenly self-conscious about how she looked.

  What does it matter to you what he thinks?

  She curved her lips into a smile and turned to face Clint, who stood in the doorway of his office, with one shoulder propped against the doorjamb and eyebrows raised.

  A sharp retort to deflect his comment came to mind, but on its h
eels, Elaine’s admonition. She hesitated, catching his eye. Clint’s expression became serious as the moment stretched out. He straightened, his eyelids lowering and his lips softening. She couldn’t look away and, for some puzzling reason, didn’t want to.

  Flustered, she shuffled through the envelopes, dropping a couple. As she bent to pick them up, other hands beat her to it. Without looking up at Clint, she took them from him and escaped to her office.

  What is wrong with you? she chided herself as she dropped her knapsack on the floor. She shook her head, as if to rearrange her thoughts and laid the mail on her already overflowing desk. Clint Fletcher is your boss, you are Nadine Laidlaw, and you dressed up for your date with Trace.

  She walked around her desk to turn on her computer. She had set today aside to clear off some paperwork and finish up some of the columns she had written. With a little luck, she would be finished by the time Trace came.

  Over the course of the morning, she looked over her articles, skipped lunch, and headed out to do an interview.

  Trace phoned while Nadine was away and left the message that he would pick her up from the office a little later than he had originally planned.

  She spent the better part of the afternoon looking over the résumés of people who had applied for the other reporter’s job. She and Wally were each doing a job and a half to make up for the vacancy, and it was wearing both of them down. Clint helped where he could, but the workload was still too much.

  The day flew by. When Nadine finally pushed herself back from her computer, she was surprised to see it was almost five forty.

  Blinking, she lifted a hand to rub her eyes. Just in time, she remembered her mascara and stopped herself.

  Nadine clicked her mouse to save the file she was working on, and then shut down her computer. She didn’t want to work anymore. Trace would be coming for her at any moment.

  She rolled her neck, looking with satisfaction over her desk, pleased with the empty spaces she could now see. She had another interview to do tomorrow, and Saturday, a volleyball tournament to cover. Thankfully, this one was in town, so she wouldn’t have to travel. Trace wanted to take her out that night as well.

  She went to the bathroom and checked her makeup, brushed her hair, and tried to still the butterflies in her stomach.

  After all these years, she was going on a date. She grinned at herself in the mirror. And not a date of Grandma’s doing, but a date with someone who wanted to be with her. Nadine tilted her head as she studied her reflection. She wasn’t a vain person, but that someone wanted to be with her made her take another look at the young woman in the mirror. She winked at herself and walked out.

  Half an hour later, Trace still hadn’t come. Nadine had busied herself with odd jobs—she cleaned out the coffee room and gathered a few mugs from different places in the office—trying to quell her nervous tension. What if he wasn’t coming?

  She tried not to, but periodically she walked down the hall to the front door to see if Trace was waiting outside. Nadine wondered how long she should wait.

  She brewed a fresh pot of coffee and leaned against the counter, waiting for the machine to finish dripping, an unwelcome feeling of melancholy coming over her. Fifteen more minutes and then she would...

  What? Her stomach tightened at the thought of facing her grandmother, telling her she had been stood up.

  The soft hiss of the coffee machine broke the stillness of the room. Nadine used to dread this time of the day. For the past year, any free evenings she had were spent at the hospital. The last few months of her mother’s life were fraught with tension and wondering. Each time the phone rang, Nadine and her grandmother wondered if this time it was the hospital calling with bad news. Her sisters came and helped out whenever they could, but Nadine knew they didn’t have the time she had. That meant the bulk of the visiting and doctor’s consultations fell on Nadine’s shoulders.

  The memories always brought tears, and tonight was no exception. Nadine felt the nudge of pain and closed her eyes as it drifted over her. She tried to fight it, but couldn’t.

  I miss her, Lord, she prayed, pressing her hand against her mouth, tears sliding down her cheeks as the pain increased. I know she’s better off where she is, but I still miss her so much. She drew in a deep breath, wishing she could stop the tears.

  A noise behind her broke into her sorrow. She whirled around, her heart pounding.

  “Sorry.” Clint stood in the doorway of the coffee room, his tie loosened, his cuffs rolled up. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

  Nadine turned away again, surreptitiously wiping at her cheeks. “That’s fine,” she replied, looking around for a napkin, anything to get rid of the mortifying tears.

  “Nadine.” He came toward her, his deep voice tinged with concern. “Is something wrong?”

  She snatched up some napkins and swiped at her eyes. “Do you want some coffee?” she asked, her voice muffled by the napkin.

  “I can get it,” he replied, stepping past her and thankfully not glancing her way. He stood with his broad back to her, his shirt pulling across his shoulders as he reached up for a cup. He poured himself some coffee and then glanced over his shoulder at her.

  “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.” He turned to face her. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

  Nadine looked down at the crumpled napkin, now smeared with mascara. She shook her head at her own clumsiness. “I’m fine” was all she could manage.

  “Has something happened?” he persisted.

  “No. Nothing.” She didn’t want him to see her like this.

  “Really?”

  Nadine hesitated, her previous encounters with Clint creating a barrier. She remembered once again Elaine’s comment. He had been a visitor in their home many times, had met her mother, and knew Grandma. He had been a large part of her life for a time. She had to concede he was the kind of old friend who could be told the truth.

  “Nothing happened,” Nadine said with a shaky smile. She took a deep breath to steady her voice. “I just...miss my mother.” She bit back another soft cry and could speak no more. Another set of tears drifted down her cheeks.

  Clint said nothing, and for that Nadine was thankful. He stood—quiet, waiting, listening; his gaze serious and interested. Sympathetic, yet with no trace of pity.

  Nadine inhaled deeply, studying the smeared napkin. “Silly, isn’t it? She’s been dead six months, and it seems like I’m sadder now than I was when she died.”

  “Six months isn’t that long,” he replied. “I would think it takes years to get over the death of someone you love.”

  Nadine nodded. “I remember my mom crying over my dad up until a couple of years ago.”

  “I think it’s an inspiration, the way your mother loved your father.” Clint laughed shortly. “You were lucky to see that while you were growing up.”

  “You were...never close to your parents, were you?” she asked.

  “Hard to be close to a couple who seldom talked to each other, let alone their son.” He sounded a bit bitter.

  Nadine wiped her nose with the napkin, surprised at his admission. She said, “But they sent you on that trip to Europe.”

  “Spending money was the easiest solution to any of my parents’ problems.”

  “Leslie told us you came to Sweet Creek because of some trouble you’d gotten into.”

  Clint released a harsh laugh. “That was part of the reason. Truth was, I think my parents saw that as a way to get me out of their mess.”

  “Mess?”

  Clint held her gaze a moment then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I just know that when I met your family, I was jealous.”

  His voice took on a faint yearning tone, and once again, Nadine felt confused. “We didn’t have much.”

  “You had everything anyone could want.”

  “And that was?”

  “Parents who cared about their kids. I always admired your mother’s strength,” Clint continued, se
tting down his coffee cup. “She did a good job raising you girls, teaching you the right things. I’m sure she must have been proud of you.”

  Nadine shrugged. “Well, at least Sabrina and Leslie got themselves married.”

  Clint said nothing to that, and Nadine sniffed once again, wiping at her eyes.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Clint said finally. “Jack was a fool to let you go, and I hope Trace is worthy of you.”

  Nadine looked up at that, blinking away more tears as she caught Clint’s steady gaze. She looked at him again as if seeing him with new eyes.

  “Were you a fool to let Leslie go?” she whispered, unable to let go of that.

  Clint pulled in a long, slow breath. “We both decided it was the right thing to do,” he said.

  “Both?” This was the first Nadine had heard of this. According to Leslie, the breakup was all Clint’s doing.

  “If you want to find out more, you should ask your sister,” Clint said, giving her a rueful smile.

  “Why don’t you tell me now?” Nadine asked, sensing there was more to the story than what her sister had always told her.

  A sudden knocking on the front door startled them both. “Hello, anybody there?” Trace’s muffled voice drifted down the hallway.

  “Well. Looks like your date is finally here,” Clint pulled away, his voice dry.

  Nadine turned to leave, but was surprised when Clint caught her arm to stop her. “Just a minute,” he said, picking up a napkin. He tugged her arm to bring her closer. “Your mascara is smudged,” he said.

  Nadine felt a most peculiar sensation as she looked up. His hazel eyes drew her in. She felt the warmth of his hand encircling her arm and of his fingers brushing her cheek as he wiped a smudge away. She raised her hand to rest it on his shoulder as she felt herself drift toward him.

  Another loud knock on the door broke the moment.

  “You better go before your ardent suitor breaks down the door,” said Clint dryly, letting her go.

  Nadine nodded, feeling breathless. She stopped at the doorway, and looked back at Clint. But he had his coffee in his hand and was sipping it, his eyes downcast.

  Shaking off the feelings he had aroused, she ran down the hallway.