The Family Man

by Irene Hannon

  Shock had been too mild a word to describe Bryan’s reaction to her lifestyle. Although he’d gone east hoping to convince her to reconsider her demand for space and to give their relationship another try, he’d returned home with a different mind-set. While part of him was still in love with the girl he’d idolized throughout high school, he’d been turned off by the way she lived, unable to reconcile it to his values. In his heart, he’d known then that Amy wasn’t for him. She had strayed too far from the principles and the faith that were the cornerstone of his life.

  Yet now it seemed she’d found her way back to faith, even as his own had wavered. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

  As Amy watched Bryan process her response and come to the obvious conclusion, she wasn’t surprised at his astonishment. She knew what he’d thought about her lifestyle in college. Or rather, what he had perceived her lifestyle to be after that awful, unannounced visit he’d made. While it was true that she’d strayed from her faith, most of the other conclusions he’d come to during that visit had been wrong. Yes, she’d had too much to drink at that party. But that was the first—and only—time she’d done that. She hadn’t liked alcohol back then. She still didn’t. She wasn’t even sure what had prompted her uncharacteristic actions that night. Immaturity, most likely. And as for her living arrangements…she hadn’t approved of Sheila’s live-in boyfriend, either. He’d only appeared on the scene that week, and a few days later, the two of them had moved out. Of course, Bryan didn’t know any of that. Nor had she tried to clarify the situation. In those days, she’d still wanted space. She’d figured they could straighten the mess out someday. But she’d figured wrong.

  “Does that mean you’re attending church again?” His voice was cautious, as if he still couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Yes.”

  Bryan was tempted to ask how she’d found her way back to God. But that wasn’t an appropriate question. The topic was too personal. And their relationship was strictly business.

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he took a step back. “Well, I need to get to work. I don’t want to be here until midnight.”

  She’d already told him he didn’t need to make up the time. She wasn’t going to repeat it. If he wanted to stay, that was his decision. “And I need to go home and have some dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Without waiting for a response, Amy edged past him and headed back to her office to retrieve her purse. She wasted no time leaving, slipping out the door as quietly as she could, not willing to risk another encounter with Bryan tonight. Yet the one she’d just had wasn’t easy to dismiss. Even as she rode down in the elevator minutes later, she could still feel the touch of his strong hands on her arms, could see the concern on his face as he’d stared at her in the shadowy light. For the first time since his return, he’d looked at her with caring. Prompted, she knew, by simple human consideration. But the effect had been devastating, nonetheless, bringing back memories of other times he’d touched her, other times he’d looked at her with the deep green eyes that had once been soft with tenderness.

  She was still trembling when she stepped off the elevator. She wanted to attribute her reaction to the shock of being startled in the deserted office, to fear that an intruder had trespassed onto family property. But she knew better. She trembled now from fear of another kind, sparked by the knowledge that an intruder had, indeed, trespassed tonight. Onto her heart. And that he’d taken something of great value, something she desperately needed for peace of mind. For survival, even.

  Her last shred of illusion that Bryan Healey was history.

  Chapter Five

  “Is this Amy Hamilton?”

  The childish voice on the other end of the phone line brought a puzzled expression to Amy’s face. “Yes. Who’s calling?”

  “This is Dylan Healey.”

  Her puzzlement deepened. Why would Bryan’s son be calling her? Especially at home? “Hello, Dylan.” She consulted her watch. Nine o’clock. Shouldn’t he be in bed by now? “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah. I just wanted to invite you to a party.”

  “A party?”

  “Uh-huh. My grandpa’s retiring. That means he won’t have to go to work anymore. Anyway, they’re having a party for him. Since I won’t know hardly anybody there, I thought maybe you might want to come.”

  Amy didn’t even have to ask to know that Bryan had no clue his son had placed this call. As she tried to figure out how to respond, she heard a muffled voice in the background, then the muted sound of Dylan responding. An exchange took place, and even though the words were indistinct, she could hear her name. The next thing she knew, Bryan was on the phone.

  “Amy?” His tone was tentative.

  “Yes.”

  A sigh of frustration—or disgust—came over the line. Amy couldn’t tell which. “Sorry about this. I had no idea Dylan was going to call you.”

  “It’s okay. A bit unexpected, though. How in the world did he get my number?”

  “That’s what I just ferreted out. It seems he asked Dad to show him your name in the church directory. He remembered the page number and looked it up a little while ago.”

  “Resourceful little guy.”

  “That’s one way to describe him. Anyway, sorry we bothered you.”

  “Not a problem. I didn’t realize your dad was retiring.”

  “Yeah. Friday’s his last day.”

  “Give him my best wishes, would you? I’d have told him myself if I’d known about it when I saw him.” As soon as she said the words, Amy regretted them. What if, by chance, James or Dylan hadn’t told Bryan about the encounter in the park? But his next comment confirmed that they had.

  “Dad mentioned that he and Dylan ran into you Sunday evening.”

  “Yes. I don’t know who was more surprised, me or them. I haven’t seen your dad in years. He looked good.”

  “He’s aged quite a bit.”

  “Haven’t we all.”

  “Not to hear Dad talk. He was amazed at how little you’ve changed.”

  “Your dad always did have a bit of the blarney in his soul.”

  “Not this time.”

  Was that a backhanded compliment? Amy wondered in surprise. Then she answered her own question. No, of course not. Bryan was the last man on earth who would say anything nice about her. No doubt he’d meant it as a simple statement of fact. In truth, she didn’t look a whole lot different on the outside. Inside…that was another story. Bryan might be surprised if he could see into her heart. “Well, you know what they say. Never judge a book by its cover.” She tried for a flippant tone but didn’t quite pull it off.

  The sound of a childish voice in the background came over the line, and once more Amy heard a muffled exchange before Bryan spoke to her again. “Sorry. My son is nothing if not persistent. The party has been the hot topic of conversation all week.”

  “It’s a nice tribute for your dad.”

  Before he could respond, another voice joined in the conversation from his end. An older voice. Bryan must have covered the mouthpiece, because Amy could only pick up a phrase or two. Including something that sounded like, “busy lady” and “have time for parties like this.”

  When he came back on the line, she heard the edge of irritation in his voice. “Sorry again. They’re ganging up on me over here. I’d better get off the phone before they wrestle it away from me.”

  “Does your dad want me to come, too?”

  There was a slight hesitation before he gave a cautious response. “He said you’d be welcome, but I told them both that you wouldn’t have—”

  “I’d like to come, actually.”

  Dead silence greeted her comment. Bryan seemed as shocked by her words as she was. And she had no idea where they’d come from. The last thing she ought to do was involve herself with Bryan’s family. He’d been clear about the fact that he didn’t want any more contact with her than necessary. So why on earth had she put him in such an awkward p
osition? It made no sense.

  Backtracking quickly, Amy spoke again. “Of course, I realize this is more for friends and family. Just give your dad my best, and tell Dylan I’m sure I’ll see him again soon. Maybe even at the park.”

  “Listen, Amy—”

  “Look, it’s okay. I have to run now. I’ll see you at the office.” Without waiting for a reply, she set the phone back in the cradle.

  Rattled, Amy sank onto one of the stools at the small island in her kitchen. Talk about a dumb move. Not to mention embarrassing. A flush rose on her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, wishing she could relive the past few minutes. She should have laughed off the call and gotten off the phone as fast as she could. Instead, the conversation had strayed to more personal topics. Then she’d practically invited herself to the party, even though she’d been on no one’s original guest list—except Dylan’s. What must Bryan think?

  Nothing good, she was sure. The best she could hope for was that he would forget about the whole thing.

  “Got a minute?”

  At the sound of Bryan’s voice Amy raised her head, the page proofs in front of her instantly forgotten. “Sure.”

  He took two steps into her office, then stuck his hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks. “Dad wanted me try asking again about the party. He’d like you to come. Dylan would, too.”

  But I don’t. He didn’t have to say the words for the message to come across loud and clear. Amy swallowed past her hurt and pasted on a smile. “Thanks. I appreciate the thought. But I’ll pass.”

  Relief coursed through Bryan, though he tried to keep his face impassive. He’d promised to ask her again, and he had. Now he could walk out the door and forget about it.

  Except something in Amy’s eyes tugged at his conscience. Something that looked a lot like hurt. He supposed he hadn’t issued the invitation with a whole lot of enthusiasm. But what did she expect? It hadn’t been his idea in the first place. If his father and Dylan hadn’t pestered him so much, he’d have let it drop last night. In fact, if he’d had any sense, he would have. For some reason, he had a feeling that by bringing it up again, he’d made things worse. And that bothered him. More than it should. Enough that he figured he’d better try again. He may not like Amy Hamilton, but that was no excuse to be unkind.

  “Look, it would mean a lot to Dad. I know he always enjoyed your company, and running into you in the park must have reminded him of…well, it brought back memories for him.”

  Although Amy was sorry now she’d ever shown an interest in attending the party, she liked James Healey. His delight at seeing her in the park had seemed genuine, and he’d always been kind to her when she and Bryan were dating. She hated to decline if the older man was sincere in his invitation. But it would be awkward. Maybe she could just show up for a few minutes, offer her best wishes and make a quick exit. That might be manageable.

  “When is it again?” she stalled.

  “Saturday from five to eight, at The Smokehouse.” The popular eatery was halfway between Davis Landing and Nashville, an easy fifteen-minute drive. “It will just be snacks and beverages and a cake, more like an open house where people can come and go whenever they like.”

  That was even better. She could handle that. “All right. I’ll stop by for a few minutes.”

  “Great. I’ll let Dad—and Dylan—know.”

  As Bryan left Amy’s office and headed back toward his cubicle, he had mixed emotions about the outcome of their conversation. On one hand, he was glad she’d agreed to go, for Dad’s and Dylan’s sake. On the other hand, her presence wasn’t going to add to his enjoyment of the party one iota. But the party wasn’t about him, he reminded himself. It was his dad’s night. And if James wanted Amy there, Bryan would just have to live with it. He’d be polite, of course. Engage in a few words of small talk. And then he’d do his best to ignore her.

  Because they had nothing to say to each other.

  Amy reached for a carrot stick, swirled it in the dip and turned to survey the banquet room at The Smokehouse. She hadn’t been to the restaurant in a long time, but little had changed. The rustic Appalachian decor, with hooked rugs on the pine floor and quilts on the walls, was the same as she remembered from years ago. The only thing unfamiliar in the room was the people.

  From the turnout, though, it was clear that James Healey had been well-liked at work. He was still standing near the door, and a steady stream of colleagues and co-workers had greeted him in the ten minutes since she’d arrived. And she was glad she’d come. His warmth when he’d gripped her hand in welcome had been sincere. That alone had made the trip worthwhile. But he was the only one who had talked to her. Bryan and Dylan were nowhere to be seen. She’d spotted Bryan’s brother, Kevin, across the room, and he’d raised a hand in greeting when he saw her. But his attention had quickly been diverted by a man and woman beside him. Trying not to look obvious, Amy checked her watch. After a trip to the ladies’ room, she could make a discreet exit. No one would miss her, anyway.

  By the time she reentered the room, the crowd had thickened. With a murmured “excuse me,” she juggled her cup of soda and eased by two men who looked close to James’s age, wedging herself against the wall between them and a large potted palm. The exit was across the room, and she didn’t relish wading through the sea of people. But there was no other way out.

  Just as she was about to take the plunge, a conversation on the other side of the palm caught her attention. She’d recognize Bryan’s voice anywhere. And she was pretty sure he was talking to Kevin.

  “…glad to be home?”

  “Yeah. I would have liked to come back years ago.” That was Bryan.

  “You could have.”

  “I had obligations.”

  “They weren’t your obligations. She wasn’t your mother.”

  “No. But she was Darlene’s. She didn’t want to leave her home, and she couldn’t manage it on her own anymore. There wasn’t anyone else to help.”

  “Bryan, you cut her grass, took care of her house, shuttled her to the doctor…that was above and beyond. Especially with everything else you were trying to cope with.”

  “It was the right thing to do, for a lot of reasons. She was devastated when Darlene died.” There was a slight lapse in the conversation, and Amy heard the clink of ice in a glass, as if someone had just taken a long gulp. When Bryan continued, his voice was subdued. “I guess, in some way, I was trying to make amends. To apologize. I knew we were pushing our luck by waiting. The doctors warned us how dangerous it could be. But Darlene was determined to reach thirty weeks…” Bryan’s voice roughened, and he cleared his throat. “I should have insisted that we follow the doctor’s advice.”

  “You did what you thought was right at the time, Bryan. It doesn’t do any good to keep beating yourself up over it. If you’d taken action sooner, you might have lost Dylan. Or both of them.”

  “Yeah.” The heaviness in Bryan’s voice tore at Amy’s heart. When she’d read the information on the Net about preeclampsia, she’d suspected Bryan might have faced the very dilemma he and Kevin were discussing. Now her suspicion was confirmed. What a terrible choice he’d faced. Save your wife, lose your son. Save your son, lose your wife. Or, as Kevin had said, lose both. How did a man cope with that kind of dilemma—and with the consequences?

  “…kind of weird to work for someone you once considered marrying.”

  Amy had missed a few lines of conversation, but now her ears perked back up at Kevin’s comment.

  “I don’t see that much of her.”

  “She’s still gorgeous.”

  “Yeah. She’s still the same in a lot of ways.” There was a touch of bitter irony in Bryan’s voice.

  “I’m picking up that that’s not a good thing. Must have something to do with the reason you two broke up. You always were pretty closemouthed about that.”

  “We just went different directions.”

  “Well, you might have taken different routes, b
ut you both ended up back home. Seems a little like fate to me.”

  Amy was growing more uncomfortable by the second. But now she was trapped. If she stepped out, they’d realize she’d been eavesdropping on a very private conversation. Maybe she should just lay low until they moved somewhere else in the room. She was pretty hidden, and….

  Suddenly one of the men she’d squeezed past threw out his arm to emphasize a point, knocking the soda cup from her hand. The dark liquid splashed against her white camisole top, and she stared in dismay as a huge, irregular splotch formed right in the middle of the snowy expanse, then slowly spread outward.

  The commotion drew the attention of guests in the immediate vicinity—including Dylan, who emerged from the forest of legs just in time to witness the whole thing.

  “Hi, Ms. Hamilton.” He bounded over, observing her with interest through the lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses, his youthful high-pitched voice rising above the din of conversation in the room. “You spilled your drink. I do that sometimes, too.”

  “Oh, my, I’m so sorry, pretty lady.” The older man turned to her, his face contrite.

  As Amy dabbed at the stain to no effect, she saw in her peripheral vision that Bryan and his brother had emerged from the other side of the palm. Her hair had swung forward, covering much of her face, but she doubted the warm rush of color in her cheeks would subside before she was forced to look over at them.