But that was the problem, their whole relationship thus far had been one of intensity, unusual depth, telling each other things usually reserved for best friends. Why? Why did she feel comfortable with him one second and edgy the next? How did Matt arouse feelings in her that had taken Brian months to get to?
"I've known Brian for a long time," she said out loud, trying to remind herself of that fact. "We dated for almost three years before he asked me to marry him."
"Fast mover, huh?"
"Some decisions should be made carefully."
"If you say so."
"I do. And since you've never been in love or engaged, I think I have more experience than you do in this matter."
"Okay," he said agreeably, too agreeably for her taste.
"You're laughing at me."
"I'm not. Do you always worry this much about what people think of you?"
"Yes."
"You shouldn't."
She groaned. "There's that word again. I know I'm a mess, Matt. I can't make heads nor tails of my thoughts. If someone looked into my brain right now they'd run screaming into the night."
Matt laughed out loud. "Shush, don't give Emily any ideas."
Caitlyn smiled back at him. "Sorry."
"You can't please everyone. Why try?"
"I'll probably die trying. I've been surrounded my whole life by people who are highly intelligent, incredibly focused, and totally obsessed by what they do for a living. There hasn't been much room for flexibility or understanding." She cast him a curious glance. "You're like that, too, aren't you? I bet you go days without sleeping or eating when you're on a story."
"Sometimes. It's not a bad thing."
"It can be lonely for the people you leave behind."
"I don't leave anybody behind," he said flatly. "There's never been anybody there."
"But there could be now. There's nothing to stop you from getting married, having children. You could have as big a family as you want."
Matt glanced down at the baby in his arms, his expression suddenly somber. "Children are a big responsibility."
"That's true. But you seem to be a responsible guy to me.
He thought about that for a moment. "I've spent so much time looking back, searching for Sarah, looking for the family that I once had, that I haven't spent much time thinking about the future. But..."
"But," she prodded, feeling a terrible need to push the point, even though she had a feeling she wouldn't be that happy with his answer.
"I might like to have kids," he admitted. "Someday, but I'm not sure I'd be a great father."
"Sure you would. Look at how Emily trusts you to take care of her."
"Only because you got us up here on the roof. She was pretty pissed off at me before."
"I made a lucky guess." She leaned back on her elbows and looked toward the sky once again.
"What about you, Caitlyn?" Matt asked. "What's in your game plan?"
"Building my business, starting some new designs, having my own collection."
"So you're saying you're also driven by work," he teased.
"I guess. It used to be when I'd sit down to sketch that I'd lose all track of time. It could have been a minute or an hour that passed. But the creative juices have left me, and I don't know how to get them back. It's like my muse has gone on an extended vacation. Does that ever happen to you when you write?"
"Never. The stories happen; I tell 'em. Now, maybe if I were writing a book I'd get stumped on what to say next. But I simply record the facts as they happen."
"And nothing but the facts," she said with a grin.
"That's right."
"Unfortunately, I can't design dresses by the numbers."
"Maybe you need a new approach."
"Or a new head."
"Bradley really did a number on you, didn't he?"
"Brian, and it wasn't just him," she murmured.
"Then what? What happened that took away your creativity?"
She looked into his eyes and found herself wanting to confide in him. But the words wouldn't come, couldn't come. She'd never let them hit the surface of the air, never let them come to life, and she couldn't allow the quiet intimacy of the night to lull her into sharing secrets she didn't want to share.
"What are you hiding, Caitlyn?" Matt persisted.
She looked away from his invading gaze. "Nothing. What you see is what you get."
"You want to know what I see?"
"I don't know. Do I?"
"I see a beautiful woman with a big heart who can't resist helping someone in need. She has a bit of a temper, especially when someone is a little late, but--”
"Perpetually late is more like it."
"But she can also be hard on herself, and I have a feeling she's hiding something, a secret that is eating away at her."
She shivered at his words, words that hit too close to home. "That sounds mysterious," she said, forcing some lightness into her voice. "You should write a novel someday. You've got a great imagination."
"Am I wrong?"
"Yes."
"I don't think so."
"Well, I think Emily is fast asleep, and we can go inside."
"Did I also mention that you have an annoying habit of running away just when things are getting interesting?"
"Thanks for the psychoanalysis. How much do I owe you?"
"Five more minutes. I'm not quite ready to test Emily yet."
"It's late, Matt."
"It's nice out here. Peaceful. Do you think that blinking light is a plane or a star?"
"A plane."
"Damn. So where's the Big Dipper or the Little Dipper or whatever they call it?"
"Over there," she said, pointing out the Big Dipper to him.
"So your father is an astrologer?"
"He's a professor of astronomy. Astrologers do your horoscope."
"Oh, sorry."
She smiled at him. "But there are all kinds of incredible stories tied to the stars."
"Stories or facts?"
She ignored that. "My favorite is the story of the Milky Way."
"The candy bar?"
"No, the Milky Way in the sky. Do you want to hear it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not if you want my company."
"Okay, shoot."
"You have to promise not to laugh or be cynical."
He shot her an amused look, and she shook a finger at him. "That is exactly the expression I am not looking for."
"All right. I'll be serious," he said in a deliberately low voice. "Proceed."
"Okay." She tilted her head toward the sky, letting the stars weave their magic spell over her. Her father's star lore had always fired her imagination. And there was a design in the back of her mind, a design for a wedding dress with tiny shimmering sequins that would look like stars dancing in the moonlight. Someday maybe she'd actually draw it, or make it, but it would have to be for the right bride, someone who could appreciate pure and utter romance.
"I'm waiting," Matt said. "Or have you fallen asleep?"
"No, just trying to remember the right way to tell it. There are a couple of versions, but this is one. Once upon a time there was a weaver fairy who lived in the sky. She used to weave silken robes for the other fairies, but one day she fell in love with the buffalo boy--”
"The buffalo boy -- doesn't sound like a good match for a fairy."
"Sh-sh," she said. "Anyway, the buffalo boy lived on the earth, herding buffalo and playing his flute all day. For a time, the weaver fairy lived on the earth with the buffalo boy, but she was forced by her father, the Jade Emperor, to return to the sky. She pleaded that the boy be allowed to stay with them. Her father finally agreed, but only if the boy tended the herds of buffalo that lived in the sky and she returned to weaving silk robes. For a while, they were happy, but so wrapped up were they in each other that they began to neglect their duties. The emperor punished them by putting the fairy and her loom on the east bank of the
Silver River and the boy and the buffalo on the west bank. They begged for one more chance. The Jade Emperor reluctantly allowed them to meet once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month. Every year they do so, and they are so happy that their tears of joy fall to the earth. That's why the two stars Vega and Altair come together during the summer months, and sometimes there is a summer rain, but the rest of the year they are kept apart by the Milky Way." She glanced over at him. "What do you think?"
Matt's face was turned toward the sky, his profile strong, sexy. Then he looked at her, and her heart flipped over.
"It just goes to prove opposites attract, but they can't live together," he said.
She knew she was treading in dangerous waters, but she couldn't stop herself. "Do you think we're opposites?"
"Don't you? If I were speaking celestially, I would say you're the bright-eyed smiling face of the sun and I'm the dark, dangerous side of the moon."
She smiled. "Not a bad analogy for a man of the earth, but I'm not sure either one of us is all one or the other. You think I hide from the truth, but I think you do, too. You want to be tough and uncaring and cynical, but there's a part of you that really liked my romantic story. Come on, admit it," she prodded.
He gave her a reluctant grin. "I would never admit that."
"And I am much more dark and dangerous than you could even imagine."
"Oh, yeah, bad to the bone, huh?"
"I fed coins into the parking meter without moving my car today, even though you're not supposed to do that."
"No way. I am shocked, Ms. Devereaux."
"See, I told you."
"You're not like other women," he said, surprising her with his comment.
"Is that a good thing?"
He shook his head as if he hadn't quite figured it out. "I'm not completely sure. I guess I haven't taken the time to really get to know a woman in a while."
"In a while or ever? Because I get the feeling that your mother did such a number on you that you don't really feel comfortable letting another woman into your life. You're not sure you can trust another female."
"What about you? Are you afraid deep down that no guy will ever love you more than his job?"
"Why are we being so philosophical all of a sudden?"
He laughed. "I have no idea, maybe because conversations at two in the morning are half incredible insight and half utter nonsense."
"But which is which?"
"Beats me. I liked your story, Caitlyn. I especially liked the way your eyes got all dreamy when you told it."
She punched him lightly in the arm, careful not to disturb Emily. "You sound like a fifties song."
"But..." He paused, waiting until she looked into his eyes again. "I have to tell you, after listening to your tale, that if I wanted a woman, I wouldn't let anyone keep us apart, not even a Jade Emperor."
Her breath fled her chest at the suddenly purposeful look in his eyes. "Uh, I, well..."
"Kiss me," he whispered.
"I don't think so," she whispered back.
"One kiss. I can't even touch you, not with Emily in my arms. Just your mouth on mine."
"Why?"
"Because I want you."
It was wrong, it was foolish... it was inevitable. She leaned over and pressed her mouth against his, closing her eyes, losing herself in his warmth, in her need, in his want. The cool night air surrounding them made the heat between them only that much hotter. She didn't touch him anywhere but on the mouth, but she could feel him all over, in every nerve ending, in every part of her body.
She forced herself to pull away from what was fast becoming an addiction. He was under her skin. He was in her blood. He was becoming too big a part of her life, too fast.
"That was the last one," she said firmly. "We have to be sensible."
"That doesn't sound like a sentence that should be delivered by a woman who believes in fairies and their star-crossed lovers."
"That was a story. This is real life." Getting to her feet, she said, "Time for bed." She shook a finger at the gleam that flitted through his eyes. "Don't even say it."
"Are you sure Emily will stay asleep?"
"I'm not sure of anything, except that I have to get up in a few hours and it's time for us to call it a night."
"I appreciate the help -- again," he said, carefully getting to his feet, making sure not to jostle Emily. "You've been a lifesaver. I just wish I could do something for you."
A sudden terrible idea occurred to her. She couldn't possibly ask him. Still... Matt would be an incredible distraction, not to mention Emily. "You really want to help me?" she asked impulsively.
He gave her a wary look. "I think so. What do I have to do?"
"Come to brunch at my parents' house with me tomorrow."
"Oh, no, I don't think so."
"You owe me, Matt."
He groaned. "Why would you want me there anyway? I'm no egghead."
"You can run interference. My mother has the ability to steamroll me into doing anything. I need a blocker. With you and Emily there, she won't be able to push me into Brian's arms."
He frowned at her. "You could just say no. And besides, I thought you were considering actually getting into Brian's arms."
"I need more time to think about what I want to do. And you haven't met my mother. No one just says no. What do you say? Will you come to brunch?"
"I should stay home in case Sarah comes looking for me."
"We can leave a note on your door."
"What if Emily cries the whole time?"
"Then we can leave early," she said, feeling even more optimistic. "It's the perfect plan. My mother won't be able to pressure me with you there. Of course, if she thinks Brian is out of the running, there is a remote possibility that she might consider you husband material, but--”
"But what?" he asked in dismay.
"You can always just say no," she told him sweetly. "Tomorrow you'll see just how easy that is.”
* * *
He was preaching to the choir, literally, Jonathan thought cynically as he finished his Sunday sermon for the ten people in the church and the group of teenagers in his choir. Where was everyone? He looked to the altar for guidance. Why am I here, Lord? he asked silently. What possible good can I do when so few people come to hear me, to hear you?
His father's churches had always been filled to the rafters with life, crying babies, young families, the old faithful. They'd sung out every hymn with the choir, rejoicing in the word of the Lord. His father had a gift for creating a passion for prayer, a gift he had not passed on to his only son.
Mrs. Mclnerny's cane hit the floor with a bang, jolting Mr. Mclnerny from the slumber he'd fallen into shortly after entering the church. It seemed as good a time as any to end the service, and with a final blessing Jonathan dismissed the congregation.
Pauline stood up and followed him out to the front of the church, where they said their good-byes.
"That was good, Reverend," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "Every Sunday you get better and better."
He felt like a young boy being encouraged by his mother to finish the race, when they both knew the race was long over. "Thank you," he said anyway, appreciative of her support.
"Mary dropped off a casserole for your Sunday supper," Pauline said. "If I can't convince you to join my family..."
"I'll be fine."
"I don't like to think of you eating alone. You need a family, Jonathan, a wife, children."
"I haven't had time for all that. And with my job, a woman would have to understand that the church comes first." How many women could accept that? His own mother had complained endlessly about the constant parade of people through their house, the late-night phone calls from the sick and the troubled, until she'd finally called it quits. Jonathan didn't think she'd ever reconciled with the fact that her husband was loved by so many people while she was barely loved by two.
"There's a woman out there who will understand yo
ur devotion, and she'll love you for it," Pauline said. "You're young. You have time."
"Maybe not enough time." And he wasn't talking about marriage, he was talking about the church. "We need a congregation."
"Folks around here don't venture out much, even in the daylight, especially to church. The neighborhood has been going down for years. You came in at the wrong time, I'm afraid. It might not be the worst thing for you to get reassigned. It might be better for your career to be in a place where you can get recognized for your efforts."
"But it wouldn't be better for the neighborhood. I feel like a failure." And he hated that feeling.
"Some mountains are just too high, Jonathan," she said with a shrug of her world-weary shoulders.
"For some men," he murmured.
"You'll find a way to make a difference. I have faith in you."
"Thank you. That means a lot."
After seeing Pauline safely to her car, Jonathan returned to the church. As he entered the sanctuary, the sun came in soft shining beams through the windows, creating a heavenly light, and it made his nerves tingle. He wasn't alone. The Lord was with him.
"I'm trying," Jonathan said out loud. "I'm trying to save this church for the community." Even as he said the words, he felt a tiny stab of guilt. Was he trying to save the church for the neighborhood, or was he trying to save it for himself? Deep down he knew that a failure here would give everyone yet another reason to wonder if he could live up to his father's reputation.
But whatever his personal ambitions, he couldn't put them ahead of what was right. He had to find a way to succeed.
"Reverend?" The halting voice spun him around, but he knew who it was even before he saw her.
"Sarah," he said softly. Her name had run around in his head all night long. He'd wondered if she'd found the shelter and if he'd see her again. He'd hoped that she would trust him enough to come back, and here she was. Maybe he was doing something right.
"I..." She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with her need. "I don't know why I'm here."
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