by Vicki Hinze
“I’m sorry, Tyler.”
“Me, too.” He sighed. “I believed in her. My instincts told me to believe my friends at the gallery, but I didn’t do it—until Carruthers called. Once I’d heard what he had to say with my own ears, well, I couldn’t deny the truth. Carolyn never loved me, Maggie. She never even wanted me, much less needed me. She wanted the fairy-tale... and my art.”
No wonder he’d considered his talent a curse. In using his gift, he’d lost his parents then Carolyn—only to learn that he’d never had her. Already robbed of his worth as an artist, she’d robbed him of his worth as a man. And, oh, did Miss Hattie’s behind-her-hankie pleadings with Maggie to be patient with MacGregor, to be gentle with him and understanding, make sense now. She wanted Maggie to help MacGregor realize that all women weren’t bent on hurting or manipulating him. That he was a worthy man. And what had Maggie done? Hurt, manipulated, lied to—and as soon as he learned the truth—reinforced what Carolyn had done by robbing him again.
God, but she felt sick inside.
Tell him the truth, Maggie. Lift the veil.
Maggie cringed. Are you nuts, Tony? That’ll convince him I’m just another Carolyn. I can’t tell him now. Not after this. He’ll be devastated. I’d rather he hate me than be devastated.
Maggie, Maggie. You said it yourself. If your heart and mind agree on something, then you owe it to yourself to at least try. Did you think?
What?
Tony sighed his impatience. On Little Island, you told me what Tyler needed. I told you to think about what you’d said. Did you do it?
Yes, but I don’t understand what you wanted.
I wanted what I’ve always wanted, Maggie. I want you to answer me. What does Tyler need? What do you need?
I don’t know.
You do! Stop lying to me. Stop lying to you. Tell me what you told me then.
He needs unconditional acceptance. Truth. Trust. Maggie felt a tingle surge through her. Is that it? Trust?
Trust and truth, surely. But what else? Dig, Maggie! Dig deep inside you and tell me what you both need!
Maggie stared at MacGregor, stared deeply into his eyes. Faith, Tony. We both need faith. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?
You tell me. Better yet, ask him.
MacGregor didn’t so much as blink. She sensed his expectancy. He was... waiting.
I can’t do it, Tony. I can’t tell him the truth. He’ll hate me!
If you don’t do it, you’ll hate yourself.
What is it with you? When I want to tell him, you don’t want me to, and now that I can’t do it, you insist I tell him. Don’t you know your own mind here?
I know that your reasoning and rationale have been at odds with your heart. I know that you’re still, right this minute, looking in rather than out.
Her heart and mind did agree. They both urged her, begged and pleaded with her, to trust MacGregor, to be honest with him. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t put him through more of the same pain. She loved him, and it was better he never know it. Better that they spent their time here then went their separate ways. He’d get over her in no time. He only thought he loved her.
Coward.
Yes. In this, yes, Tony. I’m a coward. MacGregor would hate her, but for walking away from him. Not for the horrible things she’d done.
“Maggie?” Concern waffled in MacGregor’s voice, and his knuckles on the back of the chair bleached white.
“I’m—I’m sorry for what Carolyn did to you, Tyler.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Maggie wrung her hands in her lap. “I know it had to have hurt something awful. But it’s better that you discovered it before you married her. It would only have hurt you more later.”
He stared at Maggie for so long that she half-feared he’d slipped away from her into some unseen world where she’d never again reach him.
“MacGregor? Are you okay?”
Disappointment flooded his eyes. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you? Damn it, Maggie. I’ve bared my soul to you, and you still aren’t going to trust me with your secrets.”
She licked at her lips, her hands shaking, her stomach threatening to heave. “I already explained that I can’t, MacGregor. I wish I could, but... I can’t.”
“Fine.” He strode to the door, grasped the knob and looked back at her, his devastation carved into every pore of his face. “I’ve made promises to you, given you my heart and love and trust. But even adding my soul wasn’t enough. I’m sorry, Maggie, I really am. But I just don’t have any more to give.”
“Tyler, I—”
“Good-bye, Maggie.” He walked out and shut the door.
She sat stiff as a statue on the bed, not permitting herself to so much as blink, knowing if she did she’d crumble into tears. Something was wrong here. Seriously wrong. He had been waiting for her to disclose her secrets, and he’d been bitterly disappointed that she hadn’t. He’d been asking for her trust. Asking. And she’d denied him.
The temperature plummeted.
Shivering under the Arctic chill, Maggie glanced over into the dresser mirror—and saw Tony. The light from the tulip lamp reflected on his shiny buttons.
You should have told him, Maggie. It was time. I told you to lift the veil. Why didn’t you?
He was right. She should have, but she’d lacked the courage to do it. She had too much to lose. Lifting her chin, she looked at Tony’s reflection, and lied. What veil?
Oh, Maggie. His sadness etched his features and he shook his head. Look inward for your answers and stop this. You can’t lie to me, or to yourself—not here, and not anymore ever again anywhere. Don’t you see that you’ve changed? Don’t you see that in not lifting the veil, you have done to Tyler exactly that which you most didn’t want to do? Like Carolyn, you’ve robbed him of worth, Maggie. He gave you all he had to give.
She opened her mouth but, as she did, Tony slowly faded until all she could see in the mirror was a reflection of the wall.
Isolated and cold, Maggie shivered and huddled under the covers. But even they could warm no more than her body. Her heart felt encased in a block of ice. Why hadn’t she told MacGregor the truth? Why hadn’t she trusted him? He was nothing like her father—or any other man—and he’d done nothing, given her no reason not to trust him. He wasn’t volatile. He didn’t belittle others. And he had as much reason, if not more, to not trust her—to stay away from her—and yet he hadn’t. He’d given her his trust. He’d given her... everything.
Lose him in lies, or with dignity.
Her conscience. Yes. And it was right. It was—oh, God. Faith. Faith!
She tossed back the covers, grabbed her robe, her insides shaking so hard she expected to hear them rattle. She slid into her shoes, half-running, half-stumbling to the door, then through the landing to the stairs. Where had he gone? To his room? The Carriage House? The only way she’d get to wherever MacGregor had gone was on a wing and a prayer.
He’s on the cliffs.
The cliffs. He’d gone to the cliffs. Thanks, Tony.
She took the stairs two at a time, ran through the gallery, catching a single tick from the grandfather clock, then on through the kitchen and finally exited through the mud room door. She rushed on outside—and into a wall of thick fog.
She made her way around the house on memory more than sight, then crossed the lawn, unable to see more than a foot in front her. Tony, help me find him. Please!
Feeling a hand slide into hers, she looked to her side and saw Tony. Aged and ageless, his uniform buttons shining, though there was no light to make them shine, his smile also twinkling in his eyes. This way.
They crossed the craggy rocks and up on the cliff. Tony paused. He’s right there, Maggie. Two o’clock.
She smiled. Thank you, Tony. For everything.
My pleasure. He nodded, then stepped back and was gone.
She called out. “MacGregor? MacGregor, where are you?”
“M
aggie?” She heard footsteps then MacGregor stood in front of her, staring down into her eyes. “What are you doing out here? You forgot your coat, Maggie. You’ll get pneumonia.” He started to shrug out of his jacket.
The surf pounding the rocks echoed in her ears, and mist from the sea spray and fog gathered on her skin. She grabbed MacGregor’s hands, locked them in hers, and nestled them to her chest. “Carolyn was my cousin, MacGregor. I came up here because I thought you might have had something to do with her death. The painting wasn’t in the car at the time everything burned, and the police said no one else had been around then. But someone had to have been, and I thought it was you.”
The truth hit her like a sledge. Someone else had prevented the painting from being destroyed. Tony!
She heard him laugh inside her head. Nice touch, eh?
I’ll deal with you later, Tony Freeport. One man at a time with your attitudes is all I can handle. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Tyler. I only wanted the truth. I’d promised my mother. Carolyn was family, and finding out the truth was my responsibility.”
“So you went to the gallery to gather information and found out I was here.”
“Yes, and no. I did go to the gallery looking for information. I ran into Bill there, but I didn’t know you were here until you waylaid me in the hallway upstairs. Once I discovered you were here, though, I thought I might at least learn your side of the story. I know it was wrong—keeping the truth from you—and I’m sorry. From nearly the beginning I had doubts that you were involved, MacGregor. And as I got to know you, I—”
He whispered softly. “You what, Maggie?”
She looked up at him. “I knew you couldn’t have been involved, directly or even indirectly.”
“You knew it in your heart, but your head was a little harder to convince.”
“Yes.” She dragged her teeth over her lip. “And then I realized I cared for you and that terrified me. I was so afraid of being vulnerable, of needing you and you not needing me.”
“And?”
“And then you believed in me and I didn’t want to let you down. I realized that you were nothing like my father. That I didn’t have to fear being vulnerable with you because you wouldn’t abuse my tender feelings and use them against me.”
“So why didn’t you tell me the truth, Maggie?” He frowned down at her. “I promised to always believe in you.”
“That’s why I couldn’t tell you—at first. Then you trusted me. And then when I convinced myself to tell you, Tony told me not to do it. I battled myself over that one, and decided to tell you anyway, but then—” Shame and guilt slammed into her heart and tears burned the back of her nose, her eyes.
“Then?”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I can’t do this.” She caught her breath and held it for a long second. “All that’s true, MacGregor—every word of it. But it’s not the real reason I didn’t tell you. I was afraid you’d hate me. I knew I’d lose you, and I didn’t want to lose you.”
He paused a long second, then blinked hard three times. “I have a confession to make, too.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “While you were upstairs nursing your headache, your mother called. I talked with her, Maggie.”
Her knees nearly gave out. “When you came to my room tonight, you already knew the truth.”
“Yes.” He squeezed her hands as if to prevent her from pulling away from him. “Your mother told me why you’d come to Seascape, and of your suspicions that I was involved with Carolyn’s death. That’s why I went to your room—to give you an opening to tell me the truth so I could reassure you that I wasn’t involved.”
“The veil,” Maggie whispered. “I finally get it, Tyler.”
Confusion put a crease between his brows. “What veil? You haven’t mentioned a veil.”
“I wanted to tell you about Carolyn—I started to twice, but Tony said, ‘Lift not the veil. It’s not yet time.’ “
MacGregor frowned. “So what does it mean?”
She looked up at him, her voice softening. “Love can’t be realized without trust. It’s lost beneath a veil of suspicion and doubt and—oh geez, I can’t believe I didn’t realize this—”
“Realize what, Maggie?”
“Only faith can lift the veil.” She smiled at him. “It’s faith, MacGregor.”
“Are you saying that you trust me, Maggie?”
“Yes.”
“And does that mean that you no longer suspect I had anything to do with Carolyn’s death?”
“No, I understand now. Carolyn’s death wasn’t mysterious at all. It was an accident—no less, but no more. She wanted the painting not for herself or for its magic, but to sell it to Carruthers.” Maggie freed her hand and pressed it against MacGregor’s chest. “I think she somehow knew that Seascape’s true magic wasn’t in the painting but in the house itself. That’s why she was meeting Carruthers here. Carolyn had needed to heal. She had reserved the Carriage House suite.”
“She had?”
He hadn’t known that. Maggie nodded. “I knew someone had to be at the accident site or the painting would have been destroyed in the fire. I thought it was you, but it wasn’t.”
“Tony.”
“Yes, Tony.”
Finally at peace with the past, she lifted her face to the fog. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”
“You didn’t know me.”
“Do you hate me?”
He cupped her face in his hands, his emotions trembling in his voice. “I love you, Maggie.”
A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “I love you, too, MacGregor. With all my heart.”
Ah, peace at last.
MacGregor stiffened. “Tony?”
“You heard him?” Maggie squeezed MacGregor’s waist.
He nodded.
You two really had me worried for a while there. Sorry about the blackouts, Tyler, but I had to keep you here until Maggie arrived. There was a scheduling foul-up that, um... Never mind. I’m just glad you managed to stay put without scrambling your brains on the rocks.
MacGregor looked through the thinning fog toward Tony’s voice. “How did you do that?”
Fingers to the shoulder hollow. An old maneuver I picked up in the Army for disabling folks. Works well, eh?
“Yeah, I’d say so.” MacGregor looked around for Tony but didn’t see him.
“He kept you here for me.” Maggie grinned. “Thanks, Tony.”
Actually, I did it for both of you. You were supposed to find each other two years ago, but Maggie’s mother’s accident happened and she needed her. Then you met Carolyn instead and things really got messed up. I filed a complaint with the Boss, by the way. But the damage had been done and you both had to heal before we could give this another go. Anyway, you did the work. I just assisted a little here and there.
“Thanks for your assistance, Tony.” MacGregor said. “I’ll take good care of her.”
“You will?” He nodded and Maggie smiled up at him. “Then I’ll take good care of you, too, MacGregor. I’ll use your razor regularly, to spare you from slitting your throat. And—”
“If you say you’ll hog all the hot water, Maggie, I might just not ask you to marry me. The thought of cold showers for the rest of my days—”
She squeezed his forearms, her breath locked in her throat. “Did you say marry you?”
“Don’t you want to marry me?” He frowned.
“Want to? No. You’ll drive me nuts. But”—she smiled— “I insist you do, because I’d rather be nuts with you than without you.” Recalling the bulletin board at the Blue Moon Cafe, Maggie twisted the smile from her lips. “Can we stay here another week?”
“I was thinking until Christmas—a Christmas wedding in the church. We both said if we ever married, it’d be in that church. How does that sound?”
Miss Millie and Jimmy Goodson had both chosen December 25th—those were the dates beside Maggie and MacGregor’s names. They’d been
betting on a wedding!
“What time?” Maggie asked. They’d both chosen two o’clock.
“How about two?”
“Two sounds perfect.” Maggie smiled, her heart full, and watched the last of the fog roll off shore and into the Atlantic. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. “MacGregor?”
He nuzzled her neck. “Mmm?”
“I think you’re redeemed.” She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “Ready for that bath?”
“Definitely. “
Maggie hugged him, knowing that this time when they made love it would be right.
Chapter 17
“Maggie?” Miss Hattie bustled around, adjusting the flowers in Maggie’s bridal bouquet. “Where’s the yellow carnation? Oh my, it must have fallen out.”
“No, it didn’t. It was for Tony. I took it over to the cemetery on my way over here. A little thank you for his help.”
Miss Hattie smiled. “That was very thoughtful of you, dear. I’m sure it meant a lot to him.”
Maggie darted her gaze around the bridal chamber, her nerves threatening to unravel. Leslie Butler, her matron of honor, came up to her clucking her tongue to the roof of her mouth and adjusted the flowing white veil trailing down Maggie’s back. “You look beautiful, Maggie. T.J. isn’t gonna know what hit him.”
“Thanks.” Maggie smiled, hoping MacGregor was every bit as nervous as she was—not that there was any doubt in her mind that she wanted to marry him. She’d just prefer to do it without tripping and falling flat on her face in a church full of the villagers and her mother, who’d flown up three days ago to attend the ceremony.
“This is a little something special for you, Maggie.” Leslie handed her a small box. “I bought it with the profits from that first auction.”
Maggie’s heart, already full, felt sure to burst. “Oh, Leslie.”
“I had to do it.” Leslie smiled. “If you hadn’t said what you did to me that night at the Blue Moon about owing it to myself to try, I’d never have had the courage to attempt the auction. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you did for me.”
