by Mia Ross
* * *
“Look at you!” Emma teased Rick when he came over to get a bottle of water from the refreshment table. “Did they finally decide to let you paint?”
“Yes, but we’ve got a few jokesters on the crew,” he explained, turning to show her the white handprint on the back of his dark blue T-shirt.
“Oh, that’s awful. They ruined that shirt.”
“It was Brian.”
“Why am I not surprised?” she said, shaking her head in mock disapproval. “I have to say, though, I like this look much better than what you normally wear.”
She couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud, and started busily rearranging fruit on a tray to avoid his gaze. Flirting wasn’t her style, and she could feel her cheeks heating in embarrassment.
“Really?” She peeked up and saw male interest gleaming in his eyes as he edged a little closer. “Why is that?”
At first, all she could focus on was that glint of fascination, and her brain ground to a screeching halt. Locked in his intense gaze, she blinked twice in an attempt to regain her bearings. Finally, reason kicked in and she dragged her eyes away, but it wasn’t easy.
“You look more comfortable.” Could she sound any lamer? she chided herself in disgust. But she’d chosen that route, and she decided that it was best to stick with it for as long as she could manage it.
“I am, actually.” Swallowing some water, he looked across the park to where his daughters were romping around the playground with some of the other volunteers’ kids. Coming back to her, he continued, “It’s not just the clothes, though. This whole community thing is a new experience for the girls and me. They really like it here.”
“What about you?” she blurted without thinking. That was twice now, she moaned silently. She wasn’t used to thinking about everything she said before she spoke, but apparently her mouth couldn’t be trusted to run the show anymore. Then again, Rick didn’t seem to mind the personal angle of their conversation. That was some consolation at least.
“I like it, too. Especially the people.”
He added one of those artless grins very unlike the practiced smile he’d used when they first met. She’d come to understand that some of his expressions were reserved for people he trusted to see a bit more of him than he shared with others. Emma felt honored to be someone he felt relaxed enough with to be himself.
“That’s nice to hear. We like you, too.” When he tipped his head in a chiding gesture, she laughed. “Well, some of us do. Just give the rest some time. Once they get to know you, they’ll come around.”
“How do you know they’re not right about me?”
“Because I do. We’d barely met when you offered to help with my presentation and then the effort to save our teaching jobs. That’s not the kind of thing a heartless shark does.”
“‘Heartless shark,’” he echoed pensively. “That’s a new one.”
“And totally untrue,” she hastened to add, her cheeks flaming again. “I can’t believe I repeated that to you. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault. In my business, you don’t make a lot of friends, and you get used to folks hating you when things don’t go their way.”
“No one hates you,” she assured him. “They might hate some of the decisions you’ve made, but not you personally. People here aren’t like that.”
“You honestly believe that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.”
Eyeing her somberly, he studied her for several long, uncomfortable moments. Then, as if something in his attitude had suddenly shifted, he slowly nodded. “Then I believe it, too. I’ve lived in a lot of places, but I have to admit, Liberty Creek seems to be different from all of them. Somehow, you’ve managed to keep the character of this town from changing too much. Once you get used to it, it’s kinda nice.”
A slight tinge of the South had crept into his voice, and she smiled. “You sounded like Holly just then.”
“Now, that’s a downright insult,” he teased, thickening the accent into a deeper drawl. “She’s from Savannah. I’m from Charleston.”
Emma laughed at the mock outrage.
He laughed before polishing off his water and tossing the empty bottle into a nearby recycling bin. Turning back to her, he said, “I guess it’s because I feel like I can be myself with you. Usually, I smooth it down because in college they taught us that a flat accent sounds more professional. When it’s just the two of us, I don’t worry about all that.”
She liked the way that sounded, and she couldn’t help flirting just a little. “That seems dangerously like a compliment.”
“Good, ’cause that’s how I meant it.” He paused as if there was something more he wanted to say to her. “I was wondering...”
“About what?”
“If there’s a nice restaurant around here for dinner.”
“That depends. Family or romantic?”
After hesitating a moment, the corner of his mouth crooked into a semi-grin. “Romantic.”
Emma actually felt her heart thud to the ground at her feet. She should have seen this coming, but she was still taken aback by the idea of him dating someone. In all honesty, she was a little jealous of whoever the fortunate object of his affection was. “The Waterford Inn is really nice.”
“You’ve been there?”
“No, but my parents celebrate their anniversary there every year. It’s where he proposed.”
“I love how your family keeps up their traditions,” he said. “Not everyone does things like that.”
“Thanks.” She was dying to ask who he’d be taking to dinner, but it was absolutely none of her business. Besides, the very efficient Liberty Creek gossip chain would have that detail soon enough, and all she’d have to do was ask Gran. If she decided she even wanted to know.
“Emma?”
Startled out of her brooding, she forced her attention back to the handsome banker in front of her. “Yes?”
“You looked like you were a million miles away. Is everything okay?”
“Sure. What were you saying?”
“Asking, actually,” he corrected her with one of the soft, genuine smiles she’d seen more of lately. “Would you like to have dinner with me there sometime this week?”
She stared up at him in amazement. “Me?”
“Of course you. Who else would I ask?”
“Anyone,” she blurted, so stunned that she didn’t even bother trying to keep her cool. “You could ask any woman within fifty miles, and she’d say yes in a heartbeat.”
“That’s very flattering, but I’m only interested in what you’d say. Unless you’d rather have some time to think it over,” he added quickly.
His confidence seemed to waver a bit, and she realized it was because he was worried that she’d turn him down. He was so capable and strong, it was kind of cute to see him that way. “Yes.”
“Yes, you want to think about it, or yes, you’ll go?”
He looked so confused, she couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, I’ll go.” Then something occurred to her, and she moved closer. “I know this is a big step for you. I’m honored that you’d ask me.”
Gratitude flooded his chiseled features, and he gave her a gentle smile. “Thanks for saying that. Not everyone understands.”
“I do,” she assured him, resting an encouraging hand on his arm. “You should be proud of yourself for doing this. It can’t be easy for you.”
The smile warmed, and she saw that warmth reflected in the vivid blue of his eyes. “Actually, it’s easier than I thought it would be.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it’s you.”
He leaned in to brush a kiss over her cheek before strolling across the green to get back to work. She’d glimpsed tiny hints that there was more to Rick Marshall than met the eye, but she’d
never been treated to a full-on display of his emotional side.
Now that she’d seen it, she didn’t mind admitting that she liked it.
She liked it very much.
Chapter Eight
“Wow, Daddy,” Caitlin approved from his open doorway. “You look really nice.”
“Thanks, honey.” Appraising his reflection in the mirror, he saw a guy who looked like he was walking headlong into something he wasn’t all that sure about. Which made sense, because that was exactly how he felt. Pushing the negativity away, he turned to face his daughters and smiled. “It helps to have a woman’s opinion.”
“Emma will like it,” Aubrey assured him.
“She already likes you,” his older daughter pointed out with a conviction that he envied. “It doesn’t matter what you wear.”
“That works for kids, but grown-ups have to try a little harder.”
Aubrey gave him a puzzled look. “Why?”
Rick started to reply, then realized he didn’t have a good answer. Chuckling, he shrugged. “Because we do.”
From the kitchen, Mrs. Fields called out for the girls, and after bookending him in a twin hug, they raced downstairs for the special meal she’d promised them. The scent of homemade macaroni and cheese and grilled hot dogs wafted up to him, and he was briefly tempted to invite Emma over for a more casual—and much less intimidating—dinner.
Feeling foolish, he shook off the uncharacteristic fit of nerves and pulled on the light suede jacket he hardly ever wore. The motion showed off a flash of gold on his left hand, and he reached down to spin Sarah’s ring around his finger, thinking. Sam’s terse suggestion echoed in his mind, but Rick was reluctant to remove it. He knew that once he did, he’d never put it back on again, and one of his precious connections to Sarah would be gone.
Debating with himself, he glanced at the photos on his dresser, lighting on one that always made him smile. It was of the four of them on a carousel at a park in Charleston. The girls were so small that he and Sarah held them on their ponies, and his mother had snapped the picture when they were all laughing. He remembered that day as one of the best in his life.
A year later Sarah was gone.
His cell phone rang, and he gladly took advantage of the distraction. When his mother’s name showed up on the caller ID, he grinned at her innate sense of timing. “Hi, Mom. How’re you today?”
“Oh, just fine,” she drawled in a voice that had always reminded him of honey. “What are you up to?”
Rick was tempted to resort to the usual kid-centric update, then decided it wouldn’t hurt to fill her in. “Actually, I’m getting ready for a date.”
“With Emma, the art teacher?”
“That’s the one.”
“I’m so glad. You’ve been alone too long, and every time you talk about her, I can hear you smiling. As far as I’m concerned, the more time you spend with her, the better.”
“What makes you say that?” he asked. “You haven’t even met her.”
“I don’t have to. If she makes you happy, that’s good enough for me.”
The casual way she spoke about him being with a woman other than Sarah caught him by surprise. Then it occurred to him that she was right. No matter what his day had been like, Emma had a knack for making everything seem all right. Apparently, her upbeat attitude was contagious, because just thinking about her now was making him smile. “Thanks, Mom. The girls like her, too, which makes it easier.”
“To take that step, you mean?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed on a sigh. “It’s a huge one for me.”
“For anyone,” she reassured him in a sage tone. “But once you make it, I think you’ll be happy that you took the chance. Sarah would want you to have someone, for your sake and the girls’.”
Those last few words stayed with him even after he finished their conversation and ended the call. Slipping the phone into his interior jacket pocket, he grasped the ring on his finger and closed his eyes for a moment, silently asking God to grant him some kind of sign. A light touch fluttered across his cheek, fading away almost as soon as it had appeared. The logical part of him dismissed the sensation as the breeze coming through his open window.
Another part, the one that Emma had rediscovered in him, knew that the touch had come from Sarah, kissing him goodbye so he could get on with the rest of his life. Before he could talk himself out of it again, he slid the wedding band from his finger and set it next to the frame that held the carousel photo.
After one last look at it, he turned and walked from the room. He wasn’t completely certain of what lay before him, but at least his life wasn’t stalled in the past anymore. Whatever happened between Emma and him, he’d always be grateful to her for giving him a reason to step out of the shadows and back into the light.
On the drive over to her house, he took a rare opportunity to admire the charming town that he and his daughters had found themselves in. The buildings were familiar to him now, but the change of seasons from winter to spring brought out different facets of it if you were looking closely.
The white gazebo in the town square had shed its white lights in favor of hanging baskets filled with flowers in vibrant shades of red, purple and pink accented with delicate white blossoms that cascaded over the sides in a waterfall of colors. Main Street shops stayed open later this time of year to accommodate the nicer evenings and seemingly endless flocks of tourists enjoying the beauty of the surrounding woods and untamed countryside.
Then there was the picturesque covered bridge the original Calhoun brothers had had the foresight to build generations ago. Practical by design, it also gave the town the lost-in-time feeling that Rick had first considered quaint but out of place. Now he found it as appealing as the rest of Liberty Creek, and he had to admit that the old-fashioned nature of the town and its residents had grown on him.
Pulling up to Emma’s house, he admired the Craftsman style, built by hand years ago by someone who’d shown an admirable attention to detail. Being from Charleston, he had a healthy respect for history, but his own family heritage wasn’t nearly as clear to him as Emma’s was to her. That connection to the past was something his own girls didn’t have, and as he went up the front walk, he resolved to do something about that sooner rather than later.
He lifted a hand to knock on the screen when Emma appeared on the other side, phone in hand. Holding up a finger for him to wait, she listened for a few seconds before speaking. “I understand, Dr. Finley. I’ll be there Friday at three.”
Her face was strained as she hung up, and that old, helpless sensation clutched his heart in the kind of fear he’d experienced far too often with Sarah. Nighttime calls from a doctor usually signified bad news, but he didn’t feel it was his place to ask her about it.
Apparently, she noticed his own somber expression because she gave him a soft smile as she opened the door for him. “Don’t look so worried, Rick. I just have to go in for a bone marrow biopsy.”
“To see if the leukemia is gone?” She nodded, and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding until now. “What did your preliminary exam tell them?”
“I forgot you know all about this,” she commented sadly. “It was encouraging, but Dr. Finley said the only way to know for certain is to do the more invasive test. They have to send the sample to a specialized lab in Boston, so it takes a few days to get the results. I like definitive answers, so I agreed to do it.”
Rick knew only too well that “invasive” was an understatement for the painful procedure. Before he knew what was happening, he heard himself say, “You shouldn’t try to drive after this one. I’ll take you to your appointment.”
“That’s really not necessary. I’m sure my mom will do it.”
For some reason he didn’t quite understand, he wanted to be the one to be there for Emma. In spite of the fact that h
e was agonizingly familiar with what she’d be going through—or maybe because of it—he felt compelled to step in and do what he could to help her. “She lives in Waterford, so it would be a lot more driving for her to get you, take you to the hospital and bring you home. You and I can go there and back, which is just one trip. Unless you’d rather have her go with you instead,” he added, just in case he’d overstepped some unseen line Emma had drawn for him to stand behind.
She studied him for a few moments as if she was trying to decide how to phrase what she wanted to say. “Not that long ago, you told me you couldn’t go through that kind of thing again. I wondered about it when you asked me to dinner, but then I figured we’ll have a good time and we have to eat somewhere. Taking me to the cancer center is something else again. Are you absolutely sure you want to take that on?”
“No,” he answered truthfully, ignoring the dread he suddenly felt deep in the pit of his stomach. “But you’ve done so much for the girls and me, I want to repay you.”
“I didn’t mean to create an obligation for you,” she pointed out gently. “You don’t owe me anything. Not even dinner.”
Her mouth curved into an adorable grin, and it took everything he had not to kiss her then and there. It was so like Emma to shift from serious to teasing in just a few words, and it occurred to him that her buoyant attitude was the thing he enjoyed most about spending time with this remarkably resilient woman.
“Good to know,” he replied, following her upbeat lead with a grin of his own. Holding out his arm, he asked, “Shall we?”
Laughing, she took his arm and strolled out to the car with him. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Sure. It’s on my navigation system.”
“Hmm...those things are notoriously unreliable out here. And most of the time, they take you straight to the highway and the most boring drive ever.”
“And the quickest,” he added, opening the passenger door for her.
“But you miss the pretty towns and winding country roads in between. Unless getting this evening over quickly is your plan.”
