by Olivia Miles
And then Grace had to go and mess everything up.
“Don’t look now,” she whispered to Anna, “but Mrs. Hastings is sitting three rows behind us.”
“I know,” said Anna mildly. “I saw her when I walked in.” She paused, and Grace set her jaw. She turned the page in her program. “Wait. Don’t—don’t tell me you’re afraid.”
Grace shot her a sideways glance. “I’m not afraid!” she hissed. Oh, but she was. She was very afraid. Afraid of being met with a cool reception. Afraid of the confirmation of the damage she had done. Afraid of knowing she had upset people she cared about. Ruined things far deeper than she had intended.
Beside her, Anna chuckled. Her honey blond hair danced around her shoulders, brushing Grace’s coat. “You’re really still hung up on this, aren’t you?”
Grace frowned. “Hung up on what?”
“Luke!”
Grace gritted her teeth. “Shhh!” she said forcefully, her heart squeezing in alarm. She lowered her tone, her frown deepening. “Someone will hear you.”
Anna shrugged. “So?”
Bristling, Grace settled back into her chair, pulling her gray peacoat tightly around her shoulders for shelter. Oh, if she could just disappear into it. Pull it over her head. Maybe she could climb on all fours out the row and up the aisle once the lights went out… “I’m not hung up on it,” she said, pursing her lips. Honestly!
Anna turned to face the stage. “Could have fooled me,” she said, and Grace’s temper stirred. She should have known that Anna wouldn’t understand. Anna was unflappable; she was always the cool girl at school, always so calm, so assured. Life came easily to Anna, and she took it in stride. Grace had always admired that about her middle sister, but her father had always told her to embrace her emotions, even if they felt erratic at times, overwhelming. It was what made her dig deep, what made her pour her soul into her words, her thoughts. To everyone around her.
Especially Luke.
Well, she’d done a darn good job of tempering those intense emotions in the past five years. And Derek was living proof. With him she had been safe, sheltered from the fear of raw, searing pain. With him she had been able to be breezy and aloof—she could let things roll off her shoulders with a grin or a shrug. She could have had an easy life with him, but not a fulfilled one. She had thought she could live without passion, and she could—she preferred it that way. But she couldn’t live without the one thing he refused to give her. She knew that now.
She drew a sharp breath and chewed on her lower lip to steady herself. The lights were dimming, and the buzz of conversation slowly faded until an expectant hush fell over the room.
A commotion at the end of the row stirred her attention from the stage. She glanced over to see Jane awkwardly climbing over people and finally sliding into one of the two coat-covered seats near their mother. Grace narrowed her gaze. Adam was nowhere in sight.
Leaning over, Jane smiled at her sisters, fluttered her fingers in the air, mouthed “hi,” and then settled back into her seat. She looked harried, rumpled even. And her eyes shone bright. Too bright. Grace gave a small smile in return, her mouth quickly forming a thin line of unease as she turned her focus back to the front of the room.
Something was definitely not right. Between the time of year, Adam’s long hours, and Jane’s distracted edge, Grace was beginning to have the sneaking suspicion that Adam might be having problems at work. Not that Jane would ever admit to it—she wouldn’t want to worry them.
Grace smiled sadly. Leave it to Jane to always worry so much about everyone else. It wasn’t at all surprising to her that her baby sister was the only one of them to have a child of her own. It was a natural fit for her. Even if she would have made a wonderful dancer, she couldn’t help but think.
Anna tapped her knee as the red velvet curtains parted. “Speak of the devil,” Anna said, jutting her chin toward the stage. Grace followed her gaze, and watched with bated breath as Luke strode out onto the stage, all thoughts about Jane and Adam replaced with something far more personal. And dangerous.
He gripped the mike, tapping it twice and then breaking into an easy grin that caused her stomach to flip-flop. He spoke to the crowd in assured, measured tones, his voice smooth and rich, just like she remembered it. She could barely follow what he was saying, whom he was thanking, any of it—no, her attention was centered completely on the handsome face, the twinkle in his eye she could make out even from this distance, the casual, confident presence he exuded. All eyes were on him, but sitting here, seven rows from the stage, Grace felt like she was alone in the room with him. She stared at him boldly, raking her eyes over his length, indulging in the broad shoulders, the muscular forearms where he’d rolled back his shirtsleeves.
The crowd chuckled at something he said—something she’d missed—and she snapped back to attention. Her stomach stirred with uneasiness. It didn’t feel right to be sitting here, watching Luke in this new role that he played so well. Principal. She couldn’t say she was surprised, but a part of her felt stung. It reminded her of how deep his roots were in this town. How firmly planted he was. How stubborn he had been about giving it up. So she was expected to give up her dreams, so he could stay here in Briar Creek? What choice had he left her with?
She glanced to her right, her lip curling at the sight of a woman of about her own age watching Luke’s every move with rapt attention. No wonder he had been awarded Teacher of the Year so many times and then selected as school principal—the crowd loved him, especially the women. He thrived in his role, in this life he had insisted on, wanted, lived without her. And even though Grace had been the one to leave, she suddenly felt very left behind.
Luke’s life had gone on without her in more ways than one. And to think of how much she had struggled to let go—the lengths she had gone to! Her heart panged, and she lowered her eyes, folding her hands in her lap, twisting at the smooth wool fringe of Luke’s scarf. She would give it back to him as soon as she had a chance tonight. No use hanging on to any part of a man who had so easily moved on with his life and found so much happiness without her.
She listened with growing disappointment as he finished his introduction, and then applauded with the rest of the auditorium as the third grade class took the stage and performed an energetic version of “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” followed by a rather pretty rendition of “Deck the Halls” from the first grade class. By the time the fourth grade band was setting up, prepping instruments, Grace began to feel the strain of Mrs. Hastings sitting behind her, and as the flutes led off, she rubbed her neck, making a casual show of twisting ever so slightly in her chair, turning straight into the penetrating gaze of Luke’s mother, who was flanked by her daughters. How had she missed that before?
Heart pounding, Grace swung around once more. The woman hated her; it was clear as day. Even in the dark room, she could see the narrowed eyes, the thin, disapproving line of her crimson-painted lips. It was sad, really, and a loss. She had always enjoyed her time with Luke’s mother, who seemed so independent and free-spirited. Grace had been in awe of her, if slightly intimidated, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t admired her. Rosemary spoke her mind and she had a steely determination when it came to following her passion for ballet. Surely, she would understand why Grace felt the need to pursue her own dreams, but maybe not when it came to breaking the heart of Rosemary’s only son.
Grace shifted in her chair as a group of cherub-cheeked children took the stage in a scraggly single-file line among the aws of the crowd. Sophie stood at the end of the row, looking simply perfect in the costume she had shown Grace earlier at her house.
Her heart began to ache as she thought back on the afternoon at Jane’s, spent baking cookies, fussing over Sophie’s pink and white room, hearing about her ballet classes, and chatting excitedly about the pageant. She swallowed the knot in her throat. Was that the life she could have had if she’d stayed in Briar Creek? She imagined how it would have been�
��a cozy little house, with a child or two, and Luke…
Enough. She had made her decision, she had pursued her dream, and she had seen it through. The only reason why she was thinking this way was because of recent events; it was silly to forget everything else the past few years had brought her. She would be doing herself a disservice to dismiss everything else she had achieved. Life wasn’t defined by one event, and one breakup, one hiccup in an otherwise solid career, wasn’t the end of the world. Besides, she knew herself, and she never would have been okay with following in Jane’s path. It only looked rosy because it was the path she hadn’t chosen.
Anna elbowed her, gesturing to their niece, and Grace smiled, sitting straighter in her chair.
“She looks nervous,” Grace whispered.
Anna nodded and leaned in to Grace’s ear. “She gets stage fright. At her dance recital last spring, she peed all over the stage, poor thing.”
Grace’s hand flew to her mouth before she could laugh. “Oh, the poor little thing.” And to think she had been so excited about tonight’s pageant.
“She’ll be okay tonight,” Anna assured her. “Luke’s been getting them so excited for it; there won’t be room for nerves.”
Grace felt her smile fade. She swept her eyes over the width of the stage as the children shuffled into three groups of angels, each wearing a tinsel-wrapped hoop attached to a headband and a set of bent-wire wings hooked over their tiny shoulders. A young woman, obviously the teacher, dressed in a black skirt and red sweater stood off to the side, beaming at the children and giving sidelong glances to the audience. Immediately, Grace recognized her as the woman from the party the night before. The one who was chatting up first Mark and then Luke. With her bouncy blond ringlets and sparkling blue eyes, Grace could imagine that the children simply adored her. She couldn’t help it—she wondered if Luke did, too. They probably worked together, saw each other every day. Surely Luke would move on with his life eventually. He was still young. Still handsome. The catch of a small town like this, no doubt.
Her stomach began to hurt.
She gritted her teeth, trying desperately to focus on Sophie, who stared with wide eyes at her bouncy teacher, giving a nervous smile. When the music started, the small, high voices filled the room, faintly at first, and then with more confidence as Miss Ringlets encouraged them along. By the middle of the song, Sophie was positively beaming with pride, her small face filled with a wide, excited smile that revealed all her tiny baby teeth, her eyes shiny and full of hope.
Tears prickled the back of Grace’s eyes and she clenched a fist, the ache in her throat growing stronger. For a while she had thought that if Derek could agree to one child—just one—that she would be fulfilled. Or almost fulfilled. Sure, their relationship might not have been everything she could have imagined, but their lives were simple, easy, and secure, without the complications that come from that heartbreaking kind of love she knew all too well. She and Derek were partners; they lived separate lives and came to each other at the end of the day. They were companions; they shared the same goals. Until they didn’t.
She could live with affection instead of love. She could live with understanding instead of passion. She thought she could at least. But she couldn’t live without a child.
Luke would have been a great father, she considered grimly. Of course.
Grace blinked rapidly as the children finished their song, and as the crowd burst into applause, she joined them, clapping until her hands hurt nearly as much as her heart. As the children waved and followed their perky teacher off stage, Grace’s gaze lingered on her sweet little niece as she disappeared into the wings. Smiling sadly, she was leaning over to say something to Anna when her eyes snapped to a familiar figure.
Standing in the shadows, near the edge of the plush red curtain, Luke was staring at her from under his hooded brows, his gaze penetrating even from a distance. Grace’s chest rose and fell with each breath until she tore her eyes from his, her heart pounding.
Had he been watching her this entire time? Fighting for composure, Grace fixed her gaze on the program in her hands, on the crudely drawn image of a snowman with a carrot nose that some girl from the kindergarten class had created. Everything in her wanted to look up, to see if he was still watching her, to try to discern that look in his eyes—was it anger? Sadness? Or maybe…
She could look up and know, for certain, connect with him in some small way, but as strong as the urge may have been, she forced her gaze to remain low and steady. Glancing up to realize that it was anger or disappointment in his eyes would be hard enough, but realizing that he had turned away would be considerably more heartbreaking.
CHAPTER
14
No matter how hard he tried to ignore Grace’s presence, his eyes were pulled to her image, the vision having some intoxicating effect he couldn’t quite shake.
He supposed he should have known that Grace would be here to see Sophie, but he hadn’t expected to be confronted with her the second he walked onstage tonight. The sight of her had startled him, and he had nearly forgotten everything he had planned to say. Improvisation had never been his strong suit, but what choice did he have but to wing it?
Damn it if Grace still didn’t have some power on him—the ability to make him lose sight of everything—and anyone—that mattered, that he had worked for. He was reckless when it came to Grace—last night at Mark’s party had been proof of that.
Luckily from the pats on the back he was receiving, he assumed he had pulled it off. And the kids had, too. The night had been a success; everyone was in the Christmas spirit. Everyone besides him.
Luke stood at the back of the cafeteria and sipped his eggnog. The room had been decorated over the last few days to depict a winter wonderland—hundreds of paper snowflakes hung from the rafters, twinkling lights framed the doorways and windows, and the tables were covered with shimmery white cloths. Music blared from the speakers—holiday music, of course, Luke noted with a grimace.
He took another sip of the overly sweet drink, wondering how long he would have to stay. From his vantage point near the door, he could make an easy exit, but as the head of the pageant, and principal of the school, someone would be bound to come looking for him at some point or another. Best to stay.
“Loved the pageant!” crooned a voice in his ear. He turned to see Miss Johnson, or Nicole, he supposed, standing at his side. She was new this year, in charge of the pre-K class, and with the personality to match her perky blond ringlets, she was perfect for the job.
But not for him. He’d hired her himself, but it was obvious she took the job offer as an invitation to something far more personal. More than one of his colleagues had given him a suggestive wink when Nicole strode into the faculty lounge earlier this fall, and he could only assume that the new teacher had received the same reaction. It wasn’t often that Briar Creek boasted a newcomer; most of the folks in town had been born and raised in the community. So when the pretty, petite blonde with big, bright eyes and an eager smile had arrived, everyone had thought, Perfect.
Everyone but Luke, that was.
Luke gave Nicole a tight smile, determined to maintain a professional distance. The fact that he was her boss was a convenient excuse. “Thanks. No disasters, luckily.”
Except Grace Madison sitting front and center.
“Is this an annual thing for you?” Nicole asked, leaning back against the wall. She was showing no signs of leaving as she curved her pretty little mouth into a smile.
Luke shifted the weight on his feet and glanced around the room, wondering if Grace had stuck around, or if she’d already gone home with her mother. He stopped himself—what did it matter if Grace was here or not?
“Only my second year,” he said, forcing his gaze back to Nicole. She was being friendly, he knew, but there was something in her eyes that made him uneasy. Regardless of what people might have told her, he wasn’t ready to jump back into the dating pool—with anyone. Not even�
��
“Grace!”
His pulse skipped a beat at the sound of her name, his attention immediately zapped to life. He stiffened, trying to look outwardly casual, even though inside his heart was thumping. He followed the voice to his left, where Grace’s sister Jane was standing with little Sophie.
“She’s such a sweetheart,” Nicole murmured, having followed his gaze.
Realizing she was referring to Sophie, he nodded in agreement. “She is.”
He didn’t see much of Jane anywhere other than around town, but he couldn’t help but favor the little girl while rehearsing the pageant this year. She was a sweet thing, a little shy at first, but delightfully charming once she warmed up. The kind of child he imagined himself having one day.
His stomach stirred. That door had closed.
Sophie twirled around, showing off her angel wings with a grin that made him smile. He remembered what had happened at last year’s dance recital, which he faithfully attended each year in support of his mother’s studio, and he was pleased that the little extra coaching he’d given Sophie had resulted in a positive experience for her.
“You know her family, don’t you?” Nicole pressed.
Luke drained his glass, nodding noncommittally. “Oh, I know almost everyone in town,” he said through a polite smile. With a lift of his empty glass, he said, “Well, I think I might go make the rounds. See you after the holiday break.”
The disappointment that flattened her usually bright eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “Merry Christmas,” Nicole said with a sad smile.
Luke quickened his pace, striding to the back of the room with a pounding heart, trying not to notice Grace picking up Sophie, making a grand show of congratulating her. He needed to get to the far end of the room, away from the Madisons. It was all suddenly too much.
“Luke?” He halted, darted his eyes to the left, and then hooked his gaze on his mother. He sighed in relief. “Where are you dashing off to?” she inquired.
