by Marta Perry
Jenny sniffed, shaking her head.
“Come on, sugar,” Tory coaxed, realizing she’d used Adam’s pet name for his daughter. “You don’t want me to bring your daddy in here, do you? He’d get in trouble for coming in the ladies’ room.”
That earned a watery giggle, and Jenny pulled back an inch so she could see Tory’s face. “They were mean.”
“Who was mean?” She stroked tangled curls from Jenny’s face.
“We were dancing, me and Andi. We practiced and everything. We wanted to do a jig, like pirates do.”
Tory nodded, remembering the girls dancing on the deck. “Well, that’s a nice idea.”
“It wasn’t nice!” Jenny said, her lip trembling. “There were some bigger boys watching us, and they made fun of us. They laughed at us!”
Something in Tory relaxed. Bruised pride was bad enough, but there were worse things. “Honey, you were right. They were mean.”
“But I thought we danced right. I don’t want people to laugh at me.”
Tory drew her close. “I know, Jenny. People do that sometimes, and it hurts. Then you have to remember that what other people think doesn’t matter all that much. It’s what’s in your heart that’s important.”
Jenny snuggled against her. “But I wanted to dance.” Her voice was soft.
“And you will.” Tory knew exactly what would make Jenny happy right now, because it was the same thing that would make her happy. “Come on, let’s wash the tears away. Then you’re going to dance with the handsomest man in the room.”
A few minutes later they went, hand in hand, into the ballroom. Tory spotted Adam instantly. She seemed to have radar where he was concerned. She led Jenny to him.
“Captain, there’s a young pirate here who really needs to dance with you.” She put Jenny’s hand in Adam’s.
Adam sent one searching glance at his daughter’s face and seemed to understand all the things Tory didn’t say. In an instant he’d swept Jenny onto the floor.
Tory watched them, irresistibly reminded of that night so many years ago. She’d probably looked about as woebegone as Jenny did, coming into the dance all alone.
Now Jenny was smiling, eyes sparkling as she looked at her father. Adam twirled her around and around the floor. By the time the music ended they were both laughing.
Adam spun to a stop in front of Tory and caught Jenny in his arms for a kiss. “Thank you, Miz Jenny. That was the best dance of the night.”
Jenny wiggled her way down. “I’m going to go tell Andi I was dancing. I think you should dance with Miz Tory now.”
She darted off, and Adam held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
It was what he’d said fifteen years before. And her heart seemed to be fluttering just as it had then.
No, she decided as she stepped into his arms. This Adam wasn’t like the boy he’d been that night. He was a hundred times more exciting, and she was a hundred times more vulnerable.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his breath stirring her hair. “Whatever it was, thank you.”
“Jenny didn’t tell you?”
He smiled. “I asked. She said I wouldn’t understand. It was girl stuff. She said you made everything better.”
“I suspect it was dancing with you that made her world all right.”
He drew her closer into his arms. “Let’s see if it has the same effect on you,” he murmured, his lips brushing her cheek.
Her hand tightened on his shoulder as he swung her around. She felt strong muscle and warm skin through the fine fabric of his shirt. Warmth. Strength. Those words described Adam perfectly. He was a man a woman could depend on. Unfortunately, the woman who’d betrayed him still had those qualities entangled in the memory of that betrayal.
Tory wouldn’t worry about that tonight. Adam’s cheek was against hers, canceling out anything negative. She would follow her heart just this once.
Adam drew back an inch or two, enough to see her face. His gaze, mysterious as the ocean, lingered on each feature as if memorizing it, and her skin warmed.
“Remembering the last time we did this?” he asked softly.
“No.” His lips were only a breath away from hers. “I’m just…enjoying the moment, that’s all. Not thinking about the past. Just now.”
His arm tightened around her. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself all day. Seize the present. Don’t worry about the past or the future.”
“Can you do that?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes met hers honestly. “But I can try.”
She tried not to let herself hope, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “Maybe that’s all any of us can do.”
He didn’t answer with words, but he drew her closer again. Their feet moved in perfect unison to the music, and she didn’t know or care whether there was another person on the dance floor. Being here, with Adam, in this moment—that was enough.
The music stopped. She took a step back, disoriented, as if she’d wakened in a strange place from a very real dream.
Adam held her hand tightly. “Let’s get a breath of air. This way.”
The silk of her skirt whispered as they crossed the floor. Was anyone watching them, noting that Adam Caldwell was taking her onto the veranda? She didn’t know, didn’t care.
He swept her around him onto the dimly lit veranda, then closed the French doors. A patch of light, cross-hatched by the small panes, fell onto wide boards. Still holding her hand, Adam led her toward the railing, where the only illumination was the pale moonlight.
He paused for an instant, picking up something from the wrought-iron table. Then he held it out to her—a white rose.
“I know we said we wouldn’t think about the past.” His voice was a touch rueful. “But somehow this seemed a fitting gesture.”
Her heart was too full for words when she took the rose. She inhaled the sweet aroma and brushed velvety petals against her cheek. “That’s a good memory.” Her voice came out breathless. “I think we can hang on to that, can’t we?”
He nodded. “You wore it in your hair. I’d try to put it there, but if I pricked you with a thorn, it might ruin the romantic gesture.”
“I can manage.” Her laugh was unsteady. She tucked the rose into the cluster of curls Miz Becky had pinned up what seemed an eon ago, knowing she wouldn’t care if she did prick herself. “There.”
“Beautiful.” He touched the rose, then her cheek, his hand so gentle. “You’re beautiful, Tory.”
An automatic denial sprang to her lips. She wasn’t beautiful, not like her mother. But she held the words back. Maybe it was time to give up that hurtful comparison for good.
Adam didn’t seem to expect an answer. He cupped her chin in his hand, lifting it. He was going to kiss her.
A momentary panic swept her in a cold wave. She wasn’t the Cinderella he remembered. And he wasn’t ready, hadn’t dealt with his feelings about his wife. They shouldn’t.
Then his lips claimed hers, and her rational mind shut down entirely. Nothing remained but the moonlight, the faint strains of music and the strength of his arms around her. This wasn’t about the past. This was about now.
Chapter Fourteen
This was just another part of the fairy tale, Tory told herself when she joined Adam’s family at the public dock the next day after church. Being here, feeling a part of their clan, was a fantasy, not her ordinary life.
The warm Carolina sun beat down on her bare head, and she lifted a hand to shield her eyes. Philadelphia was probably cold and rainy, but here the weather insisted on apparently endless summer. It was all part of the fantasy.
The entire congregation of the Caldwell Cove church must have made its way to the dock. Some people carried flowers that fluttered in the breeze off the water. It should have been a festive scene, but people’s expressions were serious, in contrast to yesterday’s frivolity.
Jenny pressed close to her, slipping a small hand into hers. She smiled at the child, her heart warmed by the little
sign of acceptance. She and Jenny seemed to have moved to a new place in their friendship since the incident at the yacht club.
“What happens next?” she whispered.
Jenny nodded to the water. “The boats will come. Watch for my daddy.”
The crowd shifted a little, faces turning as if they’d received some sort of signal. Tory turned, the skirt of her dress fluttering in the breeze, and saw the first boat round the curve of the island and arrow toward the dock. Another followed it, then another, until the waterway was white with dozens of boats.
Jenny tugged at her hand and pointed. “See, there’s Daddy,” she whispered.
Adam was at the helm of the boat they’d taken the day they went to Angel Isle. He eased into the dock just below where they stood and cut his motor. Moving with that easy grace across the deck, he tossed a rope to the dock. His father caught it and made it fast.
Adam stood, his gaze seeming to search the crowd until he found them. He sketched a salute to Jenny. Then he gave Tory a small, private smile that made her heart tremble.
A fairy tale, she reminded herself desperately. It’s just a fairy tale. But she was afraid her vulnerable heart wasn’t listening.
One after another the boats moved in. She saw Adam’s brother, then the Caldwell cousins, moor next to him. When every spot at the dock was taken, the boats formed a second row beyond the first, all of it accomplished with no sound but the creaking of timbers, the slap of the waves and the cries of the gulls.
When the last of the boats had been made fast, Pastor Wells stepped onto a makeshift platform at the end of the dock. As he lifted his hands to lead them in an opening prayer, Tory realized this really was a worship service. The blessing of the boats was an important part of the spiritual life of the island.
Everyone stood silent on the dock or in the boats as Pastor Wells began to read. A shiver made its way down Tory’s spine. He was reading the names of all the islanders who’d died at sea.
She held Jenny’s hand a little tighter. On the other side of the child, Adam’s grandmother stood. Her face was strong, but tears filled her eyes as the names tolled on. With each name, those who carried flowers tossed them onto the water. The scent of the blossoms mingled with the salt air.
Her throat tight, Tory sought Adam’s face again. He stood straight, almost at attention, his expression grave. This was a part of him she hadn’t seen before—a part of island life she hadn’t seen before. When he’d told her the family story about the shipwrecked sailor, she hadn’t realized just what it meant. These people had lived, and died, by the sea for generations.
At last the reading of the names ended, and Pastor Wells lifted his hands again, facing the gathered boats. As he prayed for God’s blessing on those who trod the sea, her heart seemed to overflow with her prayers and her almost incoherent longing to be a true part of this loving community.
Promptly after the amen, the choir began to sing the hymn she’d heard more than once since she’d been on the island.
“Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm has bound the restless wave…”
As the crowd joined in the hymn, those on the boats climbed onto the dock to join their families. Adam joined them, sweeping Jenny into his arms as he took his place between Tory and his grandmother. He reached down to clasp Tory’s hand, holding it strongly as the hymn came to an end. The final amen floated over the water.
People started to move away, but Tory couldn’t, not until she’d blinked away the last of the tears. Adam put Jenny down, said something quietly to his grandmother, then turned to her.
“It’s okay to cry, you know.” He brushed a tear from her cheek. “I always do.”
“I didn’t realize what it was like.” She swallowed hard, trying to get her voice to sound normal. “All those names.”
He nodded, seeming to understand. “Even though I know it’s coming, it still always hits me. How many we’ve lost over the years—some of them caught in storms, some through taking foolish chances. Some far away, like my grandfather’s brother. He died on his ship at Pearl Harbor, but he’s buried here.”
She had trouble swallowing. “No wonder this place means so much to all of you.”
“Gran says Caldwells are meant to come back to Caldwell Island no matter how far away they wander.”
He looked at the waterway, and she followed his gaze. The flowers had floated into the center of the channel, carried by the tidal current. They formed a multicolored carpet on the green water.
“Did you ever think about going away?”
Adam shrugged. “I suppose every kid thinks once in a while of going out into the wide world to make his fortune. But I realized soon enough that all my dreams were here. My place, my family, my craft—everything I could want I found here on the island.”
Still holding her hand, he began walking toward the street. Tory fell into step with him, wondering. Everything he could want, he’d said. Did he include his marriage in that list?
She couldn’t ask. His bitterness toward Lila hadn’t surfaced lately, and she hoped that meant he was coming to terms with it.
“What about you?” He looked at her with a question in his eyes.
“What about me what?”
“Your dreams,” he prompted. “What are they, Tory?”
She could hardly say she thought her dreams were coming true when he kissed her the night before. It had been a kiss. No promises—just a kiss.
“Not very grand dreams, I suppose. Just the chance to do the work I love.” She shrugged, thinking about it, and felt a wave of longing. “I guess I don’t belong to a special place in the way you do with the island. My mother considered herself a Savannahian no matter where she lived. I like the city, but it’s never felt like home to me.”
“Maybe you haven’t found the right place yet.” Their linked hands swung between them as they walked.
“Maybe,” she agreed, but something in her heart cried. She’d found a place she wanted to call home. She’d found her soul mate.
She couldn’t kid herself that she was pretending. She might not be Cinderella, but she’d found her Prince Charming.
Unfortunately, Adam didn’t act as if he wanted anything deeper than a casual relationship. That would be fine, if not for the fact that she’d gone and fallen in love with him.
Adam couldn’t deny the truth to himself. He was on his way home from the boatyard earlier than usual on Monday because he wanted to see Tory. Somehow she’d managed to flood his mind with memories of her face, her smile, her touch.
He didn’t know where their relationship was going, and that was the honest truth. When Tory finished working on the window—
That was like running into a brick wall. When Tory finished the window, he’d have to face looking at it. And she was nearing that point. He’d heard her on the phone with Mona, talking about the progress she’d made.
He pulled through the gates of Twin Oaks and parked, then sat for a moment, staring through the windshield without really seeing. Okay, he could do this thing. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d find a way to cope with the memorial to Lila.
After all, he’d gotten through the years of sympathy, of people tiptoeing around his feelings because of the grief they assumed he bore. He’d get through this, too.
When Tory finished the window, she’d go away. The depth of his reaction to that startled him. He didn’t want her to leave.
But he also wasn’t prepared to ask her to stay. What that said about his emotional state he didn’t want to consider.
He got out of the car and headed toward the house. He’d have to figure it out soon, or Cinderella would run out of his life again, just as she had before.
Jenny hurried to meet him on the porch, and he swung her up in his arms, planting a kiss of her soft cheek.
“How’s my girl today?”
“I’m fine.” She wiggled free and grabbed his hand, tugging at it. “Come on, Daddy. You have to come, right now.”
He
grinned, teasing her by hanging back. “Why do I have to come, sugar? What if I don’t want to?”
She stamped her foot. “You have to, Daddy. Miz Tory wants us to come to the workroom.”
He could feel the grin fade from his face. “Why does she?”
“The window!” Jenny practically bounced with excitement. “It’s almost done, and she says we can see it. I wanted to go in already, but she said I had to wait until you got home. Now come!”
His stomach roiled. He’d known this moment was coming. He’d tried to fool himself that he was ready for it. He wasn’t.
So much for his idea that he could live with this. He didn’t want to see the window Tory had created for Lila, and he especially didn’t want to see it with Jenny.
Resentment burned along his nerves as Jenny tugged him toward the stairway. Couldn’t Tory have been a little more thoughtful? Didn’t she realize how hard it would be to look at the window for the first time with Jenny?
Apparently she didn’t. His jaw tightened until it felt ready to crack.
Tory stood outside the studio, waiting. She wore her usual jeans, this time with a cobalt-blue sweater. Her hands held each other tightly.
“Can I go in? Please, Miz Tory?”
Tory nodded, and Jenny darted into the room.
“Don’t touch anything.” He stopped next to Tory and lowered his voice. “Did you really have to set it up so that Jenny and I see this window at the same time?”
She whitened as if he’d hit her. “I think you’ve forgotten,” she said evenly. “You were the one who told Jenny she’d be the first one to see it, as soon as it was ready.”
The fact that he knew he was in the wrong didn’t make him feel any better. He ought to apologize. He couldn’t.
“All right. Let’s get this over with.” He steeled himself for the inevitable.
Tory gave a curt nod. She turned and walked across the studio to the table, her back straight, her shoulders stiff.
He’d hurt her. He didn’t know if he was angrier with her, with himself or with his mother-in-law for precipitating this.
Jenny stood on the opposite side of the table, hand hovering over the window as if she longed to touch it but knew she couldn’t. “Look, Daddy,” she breathed. “Just look.”
