Always in Her Heart

by Marta Perry

  Forget it, she told herself fiercely. It had been a temporary aberration, a moment of empathy in their shared grief—it had meant nothing. It wouldn’t come again, because she wouldn’t let it. This whole situation was difficult enough without letting emotion get out of control.

  She didn’t do that, ever. She was run by her head, not her heart. Except perhaps that once…

  The click of the side door cut off a line of thought she’d rather not pursue.

  Link paused, peeling off his windbreaker and shaking it outside before coming in. He eyed her with what she suspected was caution, probably no more eager than she was to venture into the emotional territory they’d found themselves in the previous night.

  She pinned a smile to her face. “You’re home earlier than I expected. Marcy’s still napping.”

  He nodded, hanging his jacket on the closet hook. “Too wet for most of what we planned to do at the site today. I sent the men home early.” Something that might have been worry darkened his eyes for an instant. “Hope we don’t have to do that too often. We need to get those houses under roof before the weather turns.”

  Of course he was worried about the job. She’d learned enough in the past few days to guess that the company was overextended where this new project was concerned.

  “Accountants don’t have to worry about the weather. Just tax season.”

  He nodded, then turned a questioning look on her. “Speaking of that, have you talked to your boss about taking a leave?”

  “Not yet.” The words came out more sharply than she had intended, and Link couldn’t know she was annoyed at herself, not him. The step was necessary, but she’d put it off all day, as if to hold back the moment at which her life in Boston would come to a halt.

  Link’s square jaw seemed to get a bit squarer. “You know that has to be done. If Frank’s attorney looks into your situation, she can’t find that you’re holding on to a job in Boston.”

  It didn’t help her disposition in the least to know he was absolutely right. “I said I’d take care of it.” She put her hand on the phone. “I’ll do it right now.”

  “Fine,” he said brusquely. “I’m going up to shower.”

  He stalked out of the room before she could say anything else. Not that she’d intended to apologize, had she? After all, this was her concern, not his.

  Her mind replayed that moment when he’d lifted her hand, touching the gold band on her finger. We’re married, remember? We’d better start acting that way.

  Before she could think too much about that, she picked up the phone and punched in the number of the Boston firm that was about to lose her services. As the phone rang, a flicker of doubt assailed her. If she’d just had a baby, they’d have given her maternity leave without question. But in this case…

  Fifteen minutes later she hung up, feelings divided between relief and regret.

  “What’s wrong?” Link’s voice startled her. “Did they give you a hard time about the leave?”

  She turned, shaking her head, and her breath caught. He stood in the doorway, clearly fresh from the shower. His dark hair lay damp against his head, curling slightly at his neck. His white polo shirt clung to his broad shoulders, as if he hadn’t bothered to dry himself completely before pulling it on.

  She had to turn away so he wouldn’t notice her staring. She wasn’t going to let herself be affected by him, remember?

  “Actually, they couldn’t have been nicer. My boss insisted on paying me through the end of the month, and my job will be waiting for me, no matter how long it takes.”

  “Sounds as if they consider you a valuable employee.”

  She heard him cross the room as he spoke, sensed him stop behind her. She kept her gaze glued to the white phone on the bar between the kitchen and family room, as if it were about to ring.

  “They do. I am.”

  “Then, why were you staring at the phone as if you were going to cry?”

  “I wasn’t.” She glanced up at him in surprise, then regretted it. He stood very close, his dark eyes intent.

  “Yes, you were.” He frowned. “Look, I know it’s going to be hard just to stay home with Marcy when you’re used to a challenge every day, but we agreed this was the only option until the custody hearing.”

  “Trust me, being home with Marcy will be a challenge.” She smiled, but felt the expression fade almost at once. “It’s not that. It’s just—”

  “What?” His voice lowered to a rumble, soft as the patter of rain against the window. The room was so still she could hear the steady sound of his breath.

  She rubbed her arms with her hands, suddenly chilled. “I’ve been in that job for seven years. That’s who I am. Just as Becca was the wife and mother. Now everything’s turned upside down.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder as if to reassure her, and she felt his warmth through the soft knit of her turtleneck.

  “You’ll do a good job. Marcy loves you, that’s the important thing.”

  He didn’t understand, and she didn’t think she could make him.

  “I love Marcy. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t worry about giving up something I do very well for something I probably won’t do well at all.”

  His hand fell away from her shoulder, as if he’d expended all the sympathy he had to spare at the moment. “I think you’re worrying unnecessarily.”

  Her skin was cold where his palm had been, and a tiny spark of anger flared. “How would you feel if it were your job that had to be sacrificed?”

  All in an instant the atmosphere in the room changed. She felt his tension as if they touched—felt it pounding through his muscles and along his nerve endings. His eyes darkened.

  “It’s not.” The flat words admitted no argument. “I run the company. It’s not a job. It’s my life.”

  The crevice between them widened into a chasm. It’s my life.

  She’d known the company was important to him. She hadn’t known how important.

  The chill she’d felt seemed to spread to her heart. She’d told herself it was good, for Marcy’s sake, that he cared so much about the company.

  But she was in a situation where she had to trust him, and she couldn’t forget that he’d been willing to put aside her feelings once before when it came between him and something he valued.

  What might Link do now if he thought he had to in order to save the company?

  Link pulled his pickup into the driveway a few hours later, the flat white box on the seat next to him filling the cab with the aroma of cheese, pepperoni and tomato sauce. The pizza wasn’t exactly a peace offering, but Annie had been upset. An unhappy Annie wasn’t part of his plan to present a cheerful family face to anyone who was interested.

  He shouldn’t have snapped at her, but how could she possibly compare her job with what the company meant to him? Irritation sizzled along his nerves again. Her job, no matter how much her employer valued her, was just that—a job.

  Annie had no way of knowing what his place in Lakeview meant to him, and she never would. The company was his life.

  He looked back grimly at how far he’d come. The grubby kid who’d been an outsider in one town after another, living in one cheap dump after another, didn’t exist any longer. Lakeview was home now, and no one in town knew about that kid who hadn’t been welcomed anywhere.

  People here respected him. They considered him one of them. Maybe part of that was thanks to Davis and his family, but most had resulted from his own hard work in building Conrad and Morgan into a company that brought good things to the town’s economy. He wouldn’t give up that respect and belonging, which meant he’d do what was necessary to save the company.

  So the pizza probably was a peace offering. He and Annie had to get this marriage thing back to a safe, rational business footing, with no erratic flashes of emotion ruffling the surface.

  He turned off the motor and grabbed the box. The past few days had been stressful for both of them. Starting now, he would set t
he standard for the calm, friendly relationship that would help them get what they wanted most.

  It shouldn’t be hard. Knowing Annie, she was as eager as he to keep things on an even keel between them. Balancing the pie—half pepperoni for him, half broccoli for her—he ducked quickly through the drizzle to the family room door.

  The door opened on a scene considerably more chaotic than the one he’d left. Marcy happily pulled books from the bookshelves he and Davis had built, while Annie tried to restrain the baby with one hand and juggle a book she was reading with the other.

  He slid the pizza box onto the counter and scooped Marcy up in his arms, earning a giggle as he swung her high. “Hey, little girl, you don’t need all those books, do you?”

  Annie gave him an absent glance and returned to her book. “I’ll clean them up later. I wanted to check on something before you got back.”

  He tipped up the front of the volume she held. “The Toddler Years. What’s so important you have to look it up right this minute?”

  “I’m trying to find out if it’s okay to give Marcy pizza.” Her forehead wrinkled. “I’m sure the book covers that somewhere.”

  He snapped the book shut, trying to hide his amusement. “You should have been a librarian.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with looking up the answers to questions.” She led the way to the kitchen, her shoulders stiff.

  “No, there’s not,” he said quickly. Don’t ruffle her feathers, remember? “It’s just that I’ve been here when Marcy ate pizza. She loves it.”

  “Oh.” She looked as if she was struggling to be grateful. “Thanks.”

  She didn’t like the fact that he knew something about Marcy that she didn’t. Scary, that he knew so easily what she was thinking.

  He slid Marcy into the high chair while Annie snapped a bib around her neck. She put the pizza carton in the center of the table, and they sat down opposite each other. While he was out, she’d set the table with bright blue place mats and flowered dishes, reminding him painfully of the times he’d eaten here with Davis and Becca.

  Annie took Marcy’s hand, then reached across to him tentatively with her other hand. “Davis and Becca always held hands when they asked the blessing,” she said. “I thought we should keep that up.”

  “Good idea.” He clasped the hand she offered, wrapping his fingers around hers. For some reason, it made him think of that moment in the pastor’s study when they’d held hands and become husband and wife. “Will you, or shall I?”

  “I will.” Annie’s fingers tightened on his as she bowed her head. “Dear Lord, we thank You for the blessings of this day. Please bless this food, and make us fit stewards of this dear child. Amen.”

  “Amen,” he echoed softly.

  The moment of prayer seemed to restore Annie’s good humor. She cut a small wedge of pizza for Marcy, then smiled when the baby shoved it eagerly in her mouth.

  “Looks as if you were right.”

  “Thanks for admitting it.” He helped himself to a wedge, relieved. She sounded normal, and that was what he wanted. No unexpected emotions on either side. They were just two people, partners in a difficult job, cooperating.

  Her smile peeped through. “Okay, I guess I’m pretty obvious.” She handed Marcy another small piece. “But becoming a parent is scary. I feel as if everyone knows more than I do about it.”

  “You’re not having regrets about doing this, are you?”

  “No!” The word leaped from her mouth. “Nobody could love Marcy more than I do. Nobody!” Love filled her expression.

  He leaned back, a little shaken. Love that fierce was humbling. He hadn’t expected that from Annie—hadn’t realized the emotional strength that filled her where the child was concerned.

  All right, this wasn’t strictly a business deal. Still, his job was to run the company and keep Marcy’s inheritance safe.

  He’d leave the emotional end of things to Annie. She’d have to manage that on her own.

  “I’m going to prove it to you.” Link pulled a heavy photo album from the bookshelf and sat down next to her on the black leather couch, opening it. “You’ll see that I’m right.”

  Annie leaned back, smiling a little. She was ready to forgive Link for knowing more than she had about Marcy’s ability to eat pizza. And she was so relieved that the baby had gone peacefully to bed without tears or asking for Mama that she was willing to go along with Link’s typical determination to prove he was right.

  Their disagreement of the moment was over whether Marcy looked more like her mother or her father. Link, convinced she resembled Davis as a child, had pulled out the Conrad family photo albums to show her.

  Well, given all the things they’d disagreed about, this was a fairly benign one. A good thing, too. They’d set off entirely too many explosions in each other over the past few days. She’d let Link past her emotional guard too often. She had to find a way of dealing with the situation without that.

  Link looked down at the faded photos as he paged his way through the book that had belonged to Davis’s parents. His dark hair, usually under such strict control, had become tousled, making him look younger. Absorbed in the album, he seemed relaxed, as if the strain of his grief and his worry over the building project had temporarily been dismissed.

  “There. Look at that.” Link, grinning, pointed to a photo of a diaper-clad baby proudly holding himself upright against a piano bench.

  Annie recognized the bench—it still stood at the spinet in the living room. She bent to look closer and her hand brushed Link’s, setting off a wave of warmth. She moved her fingers away carefully and tried to concentrate on the picture.

  “Well, there’s a little resemblance, I guess,” she conceded.

  “A little? She’s the image of her daddy.” Link leafed through the pages, apparently oblivious to that touch. “Let me find another one.”

  “No fair.” She pulled the album toward her. “You’re not letting me see all of them.”

  He smiled, letting half of the heavy pages rest on her lap. “Go ahead, look. You’ll see the same resemblance in every picture.”

  “We’ll see.” She turned pages. Davis with his parents, who’d been gone for five years now. They’d died within a year of each other—his father from cancer, his mother from heart failure, as if she hadn’t wanted to go on without her husband.

  Davis in a Scouts uniform…a football uniform. The story of his life was played out in the series of photos.

  She touched one of Davis in a graduation gown. “It looks as if his illness didn’t keep him from participating in plenty of activities.”

  “Pictures can be deceiving.” Link flattened his hand against the page, and his voice had gone flat, too. “He spent several weeks in a hospital during his senior year.”

  She leaned back against the buttery-soft leather, watching his face. “You didn’t know him then, did you?”

  He shook his head. “We met in college, freshman year. Roommates by the luck of the draw. His mother told me about it later.” He flipped another page or two. “There. That’s Christmas break our freshman year.”

  Again, she recognized the setting—the living room of this house. Davis’s mother, elegant and composed, stood in front of a Christmas tree, flanked by Davis and Link.

  Link had been thinner then, as if he hadn’t yet caught up with his height. He looked—she tried to find the right word. Happy, but somehow almost surprised at that happiness, as if thinking it didn’t belong to him.

  “You didn’t go home to your family?” She ventured the question cautiously, remembering that he seldom spoke of his people.

  “No.” The curt monosyllable closed the door on that subject. “Davis’s parents invited me to Lakeview with him.” He touched the picture gently. “His parents made me so welcome. I’d never had a Christmas like that.”

  She wanted to ask why he hadn’t gone to his own home, what his other Christmases had been like, but his attitude had already warned her
off the subject of his family.

  “I never really got to know Davis’s parents well. They seemed very nice.”

  Nice. The truth was, she’d always felt uneasy around them, always mindful of the fact that they hadn’t wanted their son to marry Becca.

  “They treated me like one of their own. I don’t think I could ever repay their kindness.”

  “You tried.” She regretted the words the instant they were out. Why did she want to spoil the momentary harmony between them by bringing up something on which they’d never agree?

  Link’s jaw tightened, a tiny muscle twitching. “I made a promise. I told you that.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Instinctively, without thinking, she put her hand over his. “Really. I shouldn’t have said that. I realize you were doing what you thought you had to.”

  And whatever had begun between us didn’t measure in the balance with what you thought you owed them.

  She couldn’t say that, of course. But she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps Davis’s parents had used Link’s sense of obligation to put a burden on him that wasn’t rightfully his.

  Link’s fingers closed around hers. “They were kind to me, and Davis was my best friend. I’d have done anything for him then.” His fingers tightened. “And I’d do anything now for that little girl, because she’s Davis’s child. You know you can trust me on that, don’t you?”

  Trust. He’d put his finger right on the root of her uncertainty.

  “I know you’ll do all you can for Marcy because of Davis,” she said carefully. He’d let her down before, but this time they were on the same side, weren’t they? “I’d like to think you can love her for herself, too.”

  He stared down at their clasped hands, and his shuttered face hid his thoughts. “I love her,” he said. “The reason doesn’t matter. I’ll keep her inheritance safe, no matter what the cost.”

  “I believe you.” It was almost like a vow.

  He looked at her suddenly, and his face was very close to hers. Their hands, clasped atop Davis’s picture, seemed to bind them together.