She nodded and took off straightaway.
During the parade, Rianne and her pals passed the judging platform, where Joel and Sylvie stood. He cheered, and Sylvie snapped photos. “There are kids with pets in their buggies,” Joel said. “Dogs, rabbits, cats. I’m still glad I nixed Rianne bringing Fluffy. The band music would’ve driven that cat nuts. Next year I can see Rianne and Kendra wanting to haul their new dogs.”
“I told Rianne to start giving the pup buggy rides from the time she gets him home. These kids’ pets have grown up being wheeled around.”
“They’re cute. The kids and their pets. Happy,” he added, returning Dory’s wave. She and Grant were directly across the street. Grant held their young son, Roy, on his shoulders, and Joel felt a little jealous. He’d always wanted more than one child. “I don’t see Carline or Jeff. Did they decide not to come until the game starts?”
“Yes. I called their house earlier. Jeffery said Carline’s in a cleaning frenzy. According to Mom, that means she could start labor anytime.”
“Then it’s good I’m playing his position at shortstop today.” Seeing his friend Brett Lewis on the bench, Joel told Sylvie he’d see her later and jogged off across the field.
As things turned out, it was better than good. The first inning had barely gotten under way when Carline’s water broke.
Word circulated around the field. It seemed the whole Shea family, with the exception of Rob and Grant, piled into cars bound for the hospital. Sylvie sent Joel a note via the catcher to say Rianne was going along to keep Kendra occupied.
“Nan’s going to call me,” Rob told Grant and Joel. “I hate to miss being there when I become a grandpa for the third time. But I am team captain.”
“Carline understands. Even Jeff was feeling torn about abdicating,” Grant said. “Who-eee, will you look at that. Your friend Brett knocked that ball clean out of the field, Joel.”
The men high-fived all around. Joel knew Rob felt smug; it was written all over his face when his archrival from the other team grudgingly congratulated them on Brett’s three runs.
By inning eight, they were so far in the lead, that the opposing team had no hope of overtaking them. This was largely due to Brett, but also Joel, who was a better-than-average player. Rob, in a surprising gesture, motioned both teams to the backstop. “I’ve got a confession, folks. The guilt’s killing me. The reason we’re slaughtering you this year is because Joel’s pal Brett is a minor-league player. Since I cheated, I propose awarding you the trophy anyway. According to my wife, if I leave at once, I can make the hospital in time to hold my newest grandson with a clean conscience.”
The other team considered Rob’s joke great fun. They acknowledged that with Joel alone, Rob’s team might have won. They agreed to save the trophy for next year and not award it to anyone. Everyone came to shake Brett’s hand. And to Joel’s relief, Brett could tell that Joel wanted to go with Rob and Grant. “Hey, buddy, go on. It was good seeing you even briefly. I said I’d hang out here awhile and sign autographs for the kids. If you don’t get back from the hospital before I have to leave, thanks for the free ticket out of the city. I wish I could stay. This is grand country.” Brett looked envious.
“It sure is.” Joel clasped his hand, they parted, and he ran to catch up with Rob. Grant had jogged ahead to get the car. The trio squeaked into the hospital birthing center five minutes after Keenan Manchester had made his appearance.
Kendra and Rianne stood at the door to Carline’s room, holding their hands over their ears. Joel walked up behind them in time to see the bundled baby passed into his aunt Sylvie’s arms. He was struck by the tears standing in her eyes and the longing on her face. He knew then that he wanted her to play a larger role in his and Rianne’s lives. But how to convince her? He rubbed at his tense neck.
A nurse came in and suggested they all leave and let the Manchester family get acquainted with their son. On their way out, the Sheas met Jeff’s sisters rushing in. Rob and Nan stopped to rave about the baby.
Dory turned to Sylvie and Joel. “Grant and I will drop you two at the park. We’ll collect Rianne’s backpack from your van and meet you later at the street dance.”
Sylvie said tiredly, “Maybe it was the added stress of waiting for Carline to deliver the baby, but I’m wiped. Would anyone mind terribly if I skipped the dance this year?”
Dory’s expression could only be described as suspicious. “Nonsense. You’ll get your second wind once the band warms up. You have a good hour to relax during the barbecue. And aren’t you in charge of leftover prizes?”
“There are never leftover prizes.”
“We didn’t get to play any games or win prizes this year,” Kendra complained.
Sylvie affectionately ruffled her niece’s hair. “You two girls got the best prize of all, seeing Auntie Carline’s brand-new baby.”
Rianne launched into a list of reasons why she wanted a baby brother.
“Roy’s not so great,” Kendra said. “He always messes up my Barbies. Rianne, we’re gonna be able to bring Curly and Spotty home soon. Dogs are better than brothers.”
“Young lady, tell Roy you’re sorry, or no sleepover for you tonight,” Dory put in. Kendra quickly made amends.
“Sylvie, I’m not all that big on dances,” Joel said. “How about if we go to the park just long enough to eat? If you still want to leave after that, I’ll take you.”
“I can’t ask that of you. This is your first Labor Day Festival.”
Dory nudged her sister. “Honestly, Sylvie. People don’t offer to do things if they don’t want to do them.”
Sylvie sent her a dirty look. “What’s made you so grouchy tonight, Dory?”
Dory rolled her eyes toward Joel, and significantly lowered her voice. “Mom said she told you Melody’s on the loose.”
But Joel heard what she said. “Ah, yes, the beauty queen.” He deliberately reached for Sylvie’s hand. “If you have an ounce of compassion, Sylvie Shea, you won’t leave me alone to fall into her clutches.”
Dory’s jaw sagged. “You told him about Melody Pritchard?”
“Sis! Give it a rest.” Sylvie shook herself loose from Joel’s fingers, which effectively ended the discussion. She did agree to sample the barbecued chicken and roast corn they could smell the minute they stepped from the car.
Her melancholy mood returned, however. She didn’t have to beg Joel to drive her home; he volunteered, after making sure Dory had Rianne in tow. “You blue over your sister’s baby?” He hadn’t said anything during the drive, so when he asked, he’d already parked in his lane. His observation surprised Sylvie.
“No,” she said, throwing open her door. “Yes.” She changed her tune as Joel rushed around the car. “Envy’s an evil emotion, Joel. I hate myself for it.”
He ambled toward her house, sensing he had to tread lightly. Joel let her brood silently until they went inside. No dog greeted them. Even Fluffy was back in her own quarters. Joel watched Sylvie drop her purse on the kitchen counter. Stepping up, he wrapped her in his arms. “I don’t find your reaction surprising, Sylvie. You’re the eldest sister. Something I rarely admit...my dad remarried right after he divorced my mom. He had a second son. We’ve never met, but sometimes I wonder about him.”
Sylvie rubbed her face over Joel’s shirtfront. “Why did your dad cut off his relationship with you just because he divorced your mother?”
Joel swayed her from side to side. “Their divorce was bitter. Dad ended up hating her, and I look a lot like Mom. It took me years to realize it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t figure any of this out until Lynn walked. I’m determined not to set up any blocks between Rianne and her mother. In case you wondered, Lynn’s the one not making an effort to reach out to our daughter.”
“I picked up enough from the things Rianne said to see that.” Only a single light burned in the living room, and it was turned low. Pressing closer, she said, “Maybe you’d feel better if you had a talk with your half
brother.”
He cupped her chin and made her meet his eyes. “Did you invite me in to discuss my family?” he said, the words throaty.
“I really need someone tonight, Joel. Will you hold me?”
The shakiness of her voice touched something deep inside him. “Where do you want to go?” he whispered tightly, scooping her into his arms.
“My room. Down the hall past my workroom. I left the light on. I didn’t know what time I’d get in tonight. You can turn it off if you’d like.”
He led her to her room, settled her on the bed and gathered her in his arms. Joel’s lightly seeking hand felt that Sylvie’s back and upper arms had grown cool. He found a quilt folded at the foot of the bed. After shaking it out, Joel shoved their pillows together so they could snuggle better.
“We can’t make a habit of this, Joel.”
“Why?” he asked, at the risk of sounding like his daughter. Tucking Sylvie against his side, Joel let his eyes study her face as she scrambled for an answer. “Because isn’t allowed,” he murmured. “With everything between us, Sylvie, I deserve an honest answer, I think.”
“The truth is, Joel, I feel myself falling for you.”
He played with the ends of her hair. “Forgive me if I fail to see a problem there.”
“The problem is, I fell once before. Hard.”
Feeling her shudder, Joel tightened his hold.
“I fell for a fellow wedding-gown designer in New York. Desmond Emerson. He wasn’t a big name in the industry...then. But he had contacts, and he lavished me with attention. Des shared one or two of his contacts with me. Various boutiques expressed interest in my designs. One of them sold several gowns and requested more. Also Des had a loft apartment. The light there was great for sketching. He moved me in, and...I thought he loved me as much as I loved him. I was wrong. He loved my designs. I worked night and day building a collection he promised to display for me at a major showing where he’d booked space.”
Joel felt Sylvie’s tension mount. She needed to get this story out, or he would have stopped her. Because he could guess the rest. After all, it was eerily like the fate he’d plotted for Magnolia. Joel’s heart thudded erratically, sinking more with each word Sylvie so painfully spoke.
Emerson had presented her original designs, all right, but as his own. The crowning blow—her collection had brought Desmond Emerson acclaim and big bucks, leaving Sylvie with nothing to show for an entire year’s worth of labor.
“One dress,” she murmured, her eyes straying to a covered shape standing in the corner. “I had no collection anymore. No interest from name stores. Des had it all. Plus, he up and married our bubble-brained design assistant. I saw pictures of their wedding. She showcased my second-best design. The dress hanging in that corner is my favorite.” She took a deep breath. “It’s the gown I’d planned to wear at my wedding to Des. If he could’ve found a way to take it, I’m sure he would have.” Pain and sorrow racked her admission.
Joel felt for her. “He’s the reason you quit designing wedding gowns?”
She nibbled a fingernail. “The fire went out, Joel.”
“You have a lot of fire,” he said staunchly. “And tons of talent with a needle and thread that I’ll bet old Desmond doesn’t have.”
“That’s the worst part. He doesn’t need to sew. My patterns shot him to the top. He made a fortune selling them to knock-off gown-makers.”
“But he has nothing to fall back on when people want something new.”
“It doesn’t matter, Joel. I’ve lost all my connections in New York. Even the few I had took time to build. I’m sure Des spread lies about me, too. It was all so humiliating.”
“And it has nothing to do with me, Sylvie. Nothing to do with us.” He picked up her left hand and kissed each finger. “I love you as you are, Sylvie. I think I’ve known for a while. Say you’ll marry me. I have a solid stock portfolio. I can give you freedom and money to rebuild your dream.”
“You’d do that for me, Joel?”
“Sylvie, I believe in you. You can make a comeback.”
She started to cry quietly. He kissed away the tears until at last she dried her eyes and whispered, “Yes, I accept. I love you, Joel—and not because of what you’ve offered me. Because you’re you.” Throughout the too-short night they alternately kissed and made plans.
Joel woke Sylvie with more kisses shortly before dawn. “I have to go now, sweetheart. Dory’s bringing Rianne home early. The church is having a breakfast, and Grant and Dory are going. I’ll be glad when there’s no need to keep us a secret. When can we tell Rianne and your family the news? I’d like us to pick out rings next week.”
“Oh, Joel. I need some time to let this sink in. It doesn’t seem real.” She paused. “Give me a week?”
“One week. I’m holding you to that promise,” he said, tying his shoes before slipping out of her room and out of the house.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LIGHT, FILTERING THROUGH Sylvie’s bedroom curtains and across her pillow, woke her suddenly from a deep sleep. She grabbed the clock and saw she had twenty minutes to shower, dress and get to church. The whole family had agreed to go and present a special offering in baby Keenan’s name.
It wasn’t until she stood under a hot, stinging shower that the scope of everything that had happened last night rushed back in a flood of happiness. She’d said she loved him. That was true. He said he loved her. She hoped that was also true.
With no time to waste on reliving the other details, Sylvie stored the lovely reflections to savor later. She pulled a comb through tangles, drew her hair into a reasonable twist at her nape and hopped toward her car, putting on her shoes as she went.
She dashed into church seconds before the service started. Feeling her family’s scrutiny, she assumed a blasé expression and opened her hymnal.
At the end of the service, amid the rush of well-wishers converging to ask about the baby, Freda Poulson, Briarwood’s librarian, elbowed her way up to Nan and Sylvie.
“Sylvie, dear, have I found out something interesting about your neighbor.” That, of course, claimed Sylvie’s immediate attention, and also Nan’s and Dory’s. Rob and Grant continued talking with others about the new baby.
“Really? What?” Sylvie asked politely. Freda, the town’s biggest gossip, wasn’t her favorite person.
Freda sniffed, but bent closer to address Sylvie’s mom. “Nan, do you remember how the library committee authorized me to purchase more out-of-state newspapers? Miami, Dallas and Atlanta were the ones we chose. Well, Atlanta sent six back issues for our archives.” She paused for effect. “I...discovered your Joel Mercer is none other than the J. Mercer who draws a comic strip called ‘Poppy and Rose.’ It’s a syndicated satire about single women.”
Sylvie smiled. “He’s very modest. I’m sure that’s why he hasn’t told anyone his occupation. Wow, maybe he’s world-famous.”
Freda clucked her tongue. “He hasn’t told anyone his occupation because he’s spying on you, Sylvie. If you don’t believe me, follow me to the library, all of you. I’m going there now to catch up on some work.”
Watching her walk away, Sylvie was torn. “Freda’s a busybody from the get-go, Mom. She loves stirring up trouble.”
Dory pulled Sylvie and their mom aside. “I agree. But what did Freda mean by spying? A comic strip about singles sounds innocuous. Except that Freda was positively gloating.”
Nan cast a troubled glance at her daughters. “It’s no secret that Freda loves the spotlight, but she’s not given to outright lying. I admit, I’m curious. Aren’t you?”
Dory cast the deciding vote. “We’re headed to Mom and Dad’s for lunch, and after that we were going to the hospital. I say we send Grant and Dad on with the kids while the three of us swing past the library.”
Freda saw the trio at the door. She ushered them into her private office, where she had six comic sections laid out. “Start at the top,” she instructed. And they did.
Hurt beyond speech, Sylvie felt a sickening hole opening in her chest. And another in her stomach. The others didn’t know about last night. Didn’t know about the words, the promises she and Joel had whispered as they’d held each other. She wasn’t furious. She was betrayed. Once again! Oh, how it hurt. So many feelings clustered together that she couldn’t begin to explain that the humiliation she’d undergone in New York was happening all over.
Nan slipped a bracing arm around her eldest daughter’s waist. “This is a blow for all of us, honey. We took that man into our homes and our lives. I think you also took him into your heart, Sylvie. Am I right?”
Lifting her head, Sylvie experienced the first jab of anger. “I deserve an explanation,” she said abruptly. “Dory, Mom, I’ll drop you at home. Tell Carline I’ll see her later. I’m going straight home and I’m going to confront Joel.”
Nan murmured. “Sure you don’t want backup?”
Sylvie shook her head. “I’m the one he played for the fool. I prefer to do this alone.”
Saying little, her family nodded, but withdrew. Not even Freda spoke.
* * *
JOEL OPENED THE door to Sylvie’s knock, and she was glad Rianne didn’t appear in his wake. In other circumstances, Sylvie might have reached up and brushed aside the hair falling in Joel’s eyes—over the glasses he so rarely wore. Her heart lurched painfully as she stared at him in faded jeans and a paint-spattered, close-fitting T-shirt. He had an endearing smudge of paint slashing the cleft in his chin. Joel broke into a smile. He shifted the can of paint to the hand holding his brush and leaned toward Sylvie, clearly intending to kiss her.
The Hope Dress Page 20
