by Marta Perry
Then she moved quickly toward him, and he read the joy in her expression.
“Hey.” He rested a hip against the workbench, enjoying the sight of her. “It’s good to see you.”
“You almost didn’t. The boatyard looks deserted. I thought you’d gone home, but then I spotted your truck.”
“I wanted to get in an hour on the hull of the new boat.” He patted the smooth wood. “If I do it when people are here, they keep interrupting me.”
“Like me?” She lifted those level brows.
“You’re a welcome interruption.” He reached for her, taking her hand and drawing her closer to lean against the workbench next to him. “I’m always glad to see you.”
Funny, that she’d become such an important part of his life in such a short period of time. They’d had a head start, though. Maybe subconsciously he’d always remembered his Cinderella.
“That’s good.” She let her hand rest companionably in his, apparently content to enjoy the moment.
That was one of the things that drew him to her—that certain stillness. Maybe it was the artist in her, letting her look with appreciation at dust motes floating in a shaft of sunshine from the high windows.
“This is a nice place,” she said finally. “It feels like good work is done here.”
“I hope so.” He shifted so he could look more fully in her face. Those strong bones of cheek and jaw would give her a distinctive beauty even when she was as old as Gran. And how far gone was he that he even thought such a thing? He brushed a lock of dark brown hair from her cheek. “Of course it’s not quite as nice as working in the church, now, is it?”
She turned to look at him, her soft cheek moving against his fingers. “That reminds me why I came. I got some exciting news. I wanted to share it with you.”
Something vaguely uneasy touched him, like a cold chill on the back of his neck. “News about what?”
She pulled an envelope from the pocket of her denim jacket. “This came to the inn for me, and Miranda brought it over. It’s from Glass Today magazine.”
“The magazine that did that spread on your old boss?” He remembered as he said it that the man had also been her old fiancé. He hadn’t deserved a woman like Tory.
She nodded, and happiness danced in her eyes as she filled him in on her good news. “I know one of their photographers, and I guess she suggested a story. It just came out of the blue.”
The chill intensified. “A story? What kind of a story?”
If warning sounded in his voice, she obviously didn’t hear it. She gestured, her hands opening an imaginary magazine. “A photo layout of the church, with pictures of the restored windows and a bit of information about the original artist, if they can find it. But mostly it will be about the new window—interviews, photos, everything.”
“Interviews,” he repeated. His stomach roiled. Interviews about Lila, probably.
She must have heard his tone. Caution dampened the excitement in her face.
“That’s what they usually do.” She eyed him as if trying to read his mind.
He pressed both hands hard against the wooden bench behind him. “Tory, you can’t let them do that.”
She blinked, looking at him without understanding. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said.” He used his hands to launch his body away from the bench, unable to stand still a moment longer. “No article, Tory.”
“You can’t be serious.” She flung her hands out. “Don’t you understand what this means to me? This will open the door to all sorts of church jobs for me. I can do what I’ve always dreamed of doing.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t understand. They’ll want to write about Lila. They’ll want to interview us. Can you imagine what Mona would say? They’d probably even want a picture of Jenny. You can’t let them do that. I can’t!”
“But you agreed to the window. You said you could handle this.”
His jaw clenched so tightly it was painful. “I guess I was wrong, then. Maybe I can cope with seeing that window in the church, but I can’t cope with this. I won’t have my family put on display in a magazine for all the world to see.”
“It’s not…”
“Tory—” He stopped, took a breath, tried to think through the maze of emotions that tumbled inside him. “Tory, I love you. If you love me, you’ll give this up.”
Chapter Sixteen
Adam’s words echoed like a death knell. He loved her, but— The pain deepened, like a sliver of glass driving into Tory’s heart. He would only love her if she did what he wanted, like her grandmother, like her mother, like Jason.
She looked at him. His usually laughing eyes were as hard as flint.
She could have what she wanted. She could have his love. All she had to do was accept the conditions that came with it. A longing swept over her to do just that.
“No.” She didn’t realize she was going to say it aloud until she heard the word echo in the still, cavernous space. It ricocheted from the high ceiling and clanged against the walls.
Adam looked taken aback. “No what?”
“No.” She knew what she had to say, and her heart shattered with the knowledge. “It’s not love if it comes with strings attached.”
If that hurt him, he didn’t show it. No feeling stirred in his usually expressive face. “You’re going to go ahead with this, knowing how I feel.”
She had to fight the wave of exhaustion that swept over her. Even shaking her head took an effort. She didn’t want to fight any more. She wanted—oh, how she wanted—to pretend she could believe he truly loved her. But she couldn’t. Real love wasn’t preceded by the word if.
“I’ll turn down the article.”
He took a quick step toward her, his face lightening. “Tory, I’ll make it up to you.”
She stopped him with an outflung hand. “No.” She pushed the word out, swimming against the tide of longing to be in his arms. “I’ll give up the article not because I think it’s right, but because it matters so much to you. But I don’t want anything else from you.”
He went still. “I don’t understand.”
She wouldn’t let herself cry, not in front of him. She forced her voice to be steady. “I don’t want love that comes with conditions, Adam. If I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that.”
“I’m just asking you not to do something that will hurt my family.”
“We both know that’s not what this is about.” She breathed a prayer. Please, Lord. Let me say what needs to be said.
Anger sparked in his eyes. “You’d better tell me, because I don’t know what you mean.”
Somehow Adam’s anger stiffened her spine. “This isn’t about family. It’s about your bitterness toward Lila.”
“All right, I can’t forgive her.” He almost shouted the words, then seemed to realize what he’d done and clamped his mouth closed. “I can’t forgive her,” he repeated quietly. “How could I?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t done so well in the forgiveness department myself.” She closed her eyes for an instant, gathering strength. “But I know you can’t love anyone else as long as you can’t forgive Lila.”
Adam’s face tightened until it resembled a wooden mask, stiff and impenetrable. “Then I guess I’m not going to love anyone.”
She wanted to cry out to him, wanted to tell him not to throw away what they might have together. But she couldn’t. This was a battle he’d have to fight alone.
Help him, Lord, because I can’t.
“Goodbye, Adam.” She turned and moved blindly toward the door, feeling the hot tears spill onto her cheeks and knowing she’d lost him.
Adam accelerated until he could hear nothing but the roar of the boat’s motor, feel nothing but the rush of wind against his body. He rounded the curve of the island and headed toward open water.
It didn’t work. No noise was loud enough to drown out Tory’s voice. He’d been trying to do that for nearly twenty-four hours, and h
e couldn’t. If he ran the boat all the way to the Florida Keys, he wouldn’t outrun Tory’s words.
He eased back on the throttle, slowing until the boat bounced gently on the incoming tide, then cut the motor and let the boat drift. The endless, inexorable waves rolled toward him, gray and green as the waves in the church window of Jesus walking on the water. He’d looked at that image a thousand times without really seeing it until Tory, with her artist’s eyes, had made him see.
Peter, drowning in his lack of faith. Something cold clutched Adam’s heart. He looked at the waves and imagined what it would be like.
No, he didn’t have to imagine. He knew. He’d been out of the boat himself—once in a fishing accident, once in a storm. He’d felt the current grab him, known his clothes were dragging him down, struggled in panic against the tide. He’d been in the place of all those islanders who’d been lost at sea.
But he hadn’t drowned. Each time someone had been there to help him. Like Peter, he hadn’t drowned.
Until now.
Peter had been sinking under the weight of his lack of faith. Adam was sinking under the weight of his lack of forgiveness.
Everything in him rose to reject that thought. He couldn’t forgive. Anger and bitterness clutched his heart. What Lila had done to him was unforgivable.
Unforgivable? He saw, in his mind’s eye, the face of Jesus in the window. Jesus looked at Peter without regard for Peter’s failings—He looked at Peter with unconditional love.
Tory didn’t deserve love that came with conditions. She was wise enough to know that wasn’t love at all.
He had to free himself. But he couldn’t. He stared at the rolling waves, tears salty as the ocean filling his eyes.
Please, Lord. I can’t do it myself. Please, help me learn to forgive. Help me.
“Easy, easy.” Tory held her breath as the workmen put the new window into its frame. It creaked as if in protest, and then settled into place.
She couldn’t look at it. Her beautiful dolphin only gave her pain instead of joy.
She took a step back, letting the workmen secure the window. She wouldn’t have to see it much longer. Her bags were packed. As soon as this was finished, she’d leave Caldwell Island. This time she wouldn’t be back.
I failed. The thought haunted her. She hadn’t found the dolphin, hadn’t kept her promise to her mother.
She’d finished the commission, but at a cost she’d be feeling for the rest of her days.
She covered her eyes with her palms only to see the colored light from the windows against the darkness.
She dropped her hands and stared at the image of Jesus walking on the water. His loving gaze, directed at Peter, seemed to touch her, too. It was as if He spoke directly to her wounded heart.
You have unconditional love from Me, dear child. Forgive yourself, and be content.
Love flowed through her, easing the pain. She could see more clearly.
She couldn’t erase the pain of her mother’s life, no matter how much she longed to. She couldn’t undo Emily’s past. But she couldn’t regret her time here, no matter how much it hurt. She’d done the right thing in coming back to Caldwell Island.
Tory looked at her dolphin, springing from the waves. She hadn’t found the lost carving, but she’d done what she could. It had to be enough.
“I see it’s finished.”
At the sound of Adam’s voice, her hands clenched, fingernails biting into the palms. How long would it be until she could think of him without pain?
She turned to watch as he came slowly down the center aisle. Through the pain, she stored up one more image of him to carry away with her. It would have to last a long time.
She was vaguely aware of the workmen gathering their tools. The moment they took to exchange a few words with Adam gave her time to armor herself. The door closed behind the workmen, and they were alone in the church. They’d come full circle.
“Yes. It’s done.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. She’d already said it all. “I’ll be leaving today.”
“I don’t think you should go so soon.” Adam took a step closer. “The photographer won’t be here until tomorrow.”
It was hard to think with him so close. “Photographer?”
“From the magazine. I called them. They’re going to do the story.”
She looked at him, not quite able to believe what she was hearing. “You called them? But why? I told you I’d give up the story.”
“You told me it wasn’t love if it came with strings attached.”
Her words came back to hurt her, and she swallowed hard. “I told you I’d give it up,” she said again. “You didn’t have to call them.”
“Yes, I did.”
She didn’t dare to hope. “Why?”
His strong face grew bleak. “I wanted to take the easy way out. I thought I could accept the memorial and pretend that my life with Lila was behind me. That I could just forget.”
His words pierced her heart. “Forgetting doesn’t work, does it?” The Lord knew she’d tried that.
“No.” He clenched his jaw. “I couldn’t forget. You were right. I had to forgive first.”
“I’m glad,” she said carefully, not able to let herself hope. “If you’re able to forgive Lila, I’m glad.” The emotions roiling through her were too big, too scary.
“I had to forgive so I could free my heart to love again.” He lifted his hand to touch her cheek gently. “It’s the only way I could offer you my love. Unconditionally.”
She searched his face, longing to believe and not quite daring to. But the steady light in his eyes told her the truth. He meant what he said. He loved her.
With a little sob, she stepped into his arms. “You mean it.”
He held her close, his cheek against hers. “I love you, Tory Marlowe. Please say you can love me.”
She’d come to Caldwell Cove to find the secrets of the past. God had shown her the secrets of the heart.
She looked at Adam, heart almost too full to speak. “I can,” she managed to say. “I do.”
Epilogue
A few weeks ago, Adam wouldn’t have dreamed he’d be able to do this. He stood near the pulpit in the church, waiting his turn to speak at the dedication of the new window.
He hadn’t thought he could even look at the window, but now his heart was drawn toward Tory’s beautiful creation. The dolphin rose from the sea, even more dramatic seen as it should be, with the sunlight behind it and the colors streaming across the faces of the people he loved.
His brother, his cousins, their spouses and children—every Caldwell had come. His heart swelled as he looked at his father sitting next to Uncle Clayton. They’d taken another faltering step in finding a relationship, sitting together in church for the first time since they were boys. The joy in Gran’s face was almost too intense to behold.
Music from the organ filled the sanctuary until it seemed the walls must breathe with it. Soon the organist would finish, and it would be his turn to speak. He’d have to talk about Lila.
He could, now. Loving Tory had let him find his way to forgiveness and peace.
Tory sat in the front row, between Mona and his daughter. The engagement ring he’d given her sparkled in the light from the window, and it occurred to him how appropriate that was. The window had brought Tory back to him.
They’d settled so many things in the last few weeks. Tory would continue to create her stained glass in the larger studio he was building where she could have both a workroom and a display area. She’d travel when she had to, but most of the time she’d be on the island, where she belonged.
His heart filled with thankfulness as he looked at her serene profile. God had given them such a precious gift in their love for each other.
Tory turned her head, her gaze seeking his, and gave him a small, private smile. For an instant some trick of the light turned her into the young girl in the white dress with stars in her eyes.
H
is Cinderella. He’d found her and lost her fifteen years ago, but when the time was right, God had brought her home to him at last.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing to pick up this book. I hope you’ve enjoyed the story of Adam and Tory. I’ve had such pleasure in writing the Caldwell clan stories that I’ll hate to leave them when the stories are finished.
I began thinking about this story when I took a class in making stained glass a few years ago. Although I’ll never be the artist that Tory is, learning about the glass has given me a new appreciation for the wonderful works that grace so many sanctuaries.
I love to hear from readers, and I’d be happy to send you a signed bookplate and let you know when my books are coming out. You can reach me c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279 or visit me on the Web at www.martaperry.com.
Blessings,
PROMISE FOREVER
Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.
—Colossians 3:12
This story is dedicated to my wonderful editor, Ann Leslie Tuttle, with gratitude. And, as always, to Brian.
Chapter One
Tyler Winchester ripped open the pale blue envelope that had arrived in the morning mail. A photograph fluttered onto the polished mahogany desktop. No letter, just a photograph of a young boy, standing in the shade of a sprawling live oak.
He flipped it over. Two words had been scrawled on the back—two words that made his world shudder.
Your son.
For a moment he couldn’t react at all. He shot a glance toward the office doorway, where his younger brother was trying to talk his way past Tyler’s assistant. Turning his back on them, Tyler studied the envelope. Caldwell Cove. The envelope was postmarked Caldwell Cove, South Carolina.
