Everlasting Love

by Linda Ford

  The minute her father stepped into view she darted across the street, barely missed being hit by a car.

  "Dad," she called.

  He stopped, looked about as if wishing he could avoid this meeting.

  "What were you doing in there?" She edged him toward the café as she talked. She'd serve him coffee with her inquisition but she'd find out the truth.

  "I spoke to Steele."

  "About what?"

  Dad sighed. "I guess you deserve the truth. I asked him to give your mother a speedy divorce."

  Thankfully they had made it across the street because Holly grabbed his arm and jerked him to a stop. "Dad, you can't be serious. You can't walk away from thirty years of marriage. Win her back. Romance her."

  "Don't you think I've tried? It's not enough. I'm not enough. My love isn't enough. It's not fair for me to keep her tied to me when she's moved on in her heart."

  Holly swallowed hard against the sudden nausea in her throat. "No way. You can't divorce. I won't let you." This couldn't be happening. Not to her parents. She believed in everlasting love. Hadn't they taught her love was for a lifetime? This was Steele's fault. "What did Steele say?" She ground out the words.

  "He said I had a lot of things to take care of to ensure this didn't turn into a dirty fight. I told him I didn't care. Split everything down the middle. She deserves it. But it's a little hard to split a resort down the middle. One of us will have to buy the other out, I suppose. Or sell it to a third party."

  Somehow Holly made her legs work, managed to sit down on a chair that felt as if someone had filled the seat with tiny tacks. She squeezed her knees together to stop her legs from shaking. "How can you even say that? It's my home."

  Her father rubbed at his eyes. Peripherally she noted how red rimmed they were, how he seemed to have aged twenty years. She forced herself to speak calmly, rationally, even though she could barely put together a coherent sentence.

  "Dad, I can't believe there isn't some way to work things out. I'll talk to Mom again. Maybe if I invite her here you could visit her."

  "Honey, you can try. But don't be surprised if she refuses. I think she's having too much fun on her own."

  "No, I think she's scared and alone and afraid to admit it. She keeps saying what she did is so wrong she's gone beyond going back."

  "I've tried to tell her it isn't so but she doesn't hear me." The way he downed his coffee made her wonder that he didn't set his tongue on fire. Then he bolted to his feet. "I have to go. Steele insisted I make a list of all our assets."

  Steele did, did he? He was actually encouraging her father in this? She struggled to her feet, waited for her legs to steady then marched across the street and up the stairs to his office.

  Steele watched her head his direction. Knew she'd be coming. But Glenn had asked for advice and Steele couldn't refuse it. The man had too much to lose. Not just his marriage, which was devastating to everyone involved, but also his whole life work and perhaps his retirement fund unless he had some good counsel to guide him through this. Not that Glenn cared. "Give it all to her," he'd said.

  But one thing Steele had learned—when people were the most vulnerable, they made the worst choices and lived to regret them. They needed someone with a cool business head. That's where he came in.

  Would Holly see this as part of his job or would she take it personally?

  She barged through the door before his secretary could end her message warning him, preparing him. He'd been preparing himself for the last twenty minutes, since Glenn left the office.

  One look at her face and he answered his own question. She would take it personal.

  "How could you?" She breathed hard.

  "Holly, have a chair. Let's talk reasonably."

  "I don’t want to sit." She leaned over the desk, eyeing him with all the feeling she'd give a bug crawling across her table. "You had the nerve to advise my father about a divorce? My father. This isn't someone coming in off the street, strangers or people who sit at the far side of the church. These are my parents. This affects me."

  "I realize that. Which is why I want to make sure your father gets good advice and has some sound direction."

  "Good advice? Did that include suggestions as to how he could mend things with my mother? The name of a good counselor?"

  "Holly, that's not my expertise."

  "Well, apparently my expertise doesn't include thinking you might have changed. How can I have anything to do with a man who is helping my father divorce my mother?" She took a step backwards. "You don't believe in love."

  "I believe in a love based on practical things, a love built on a solid foundation."

  "I'm sorry. That's not the sort of love I need." She spun on her heel and left the room.

  "Holly." He hurried after her. But she either didn't hear him or didn't care.

  He returned to his office and stared out the window, watching as she returned to the café. She turned once to glower up at his windows then disappeared inside.

  So that was that. Why should he be disappointed? Or surprised? He knew all that romance and lovey-dovey stuff didn't last. Had known it since he was knee high to a grasshopper as Pops would say. So why did he feel this terrible tightness in his chest, a stinging in his eyes?

  Besides who had said anything about love? Certainly not him.

  Who was he kidding? No words had been spoken but he knew without voicing the thought what was in his mind. And he'd thought Holly's as well.

  He spun around and pulled out a stack of files. Men didn't cry. They worked.

  By the end of the day he was forced to admit that working got his desk cleared but didn't drive away the thought of Holly just a few steps away.

  He stood at the windows, saw the empty flower cart. The day had almost ended. He could bury himself in work but what would that get him? A clean desk. A harried secretary? Of course, he could always hire a second secretary. But that wouldn't solve what really bothered him.

  He didn't want to lose Holly and this growing depth of feeling between them. He understood her anger and fear at her father's decision but whether he came to Steele or went elsewhere it shouldn't affect Holly and Steele's relationship. Surely she'd had time to realize that. He glanced at his watch. She'd soon be closing up. Indeed, she had already started carrying chairs inside.

  He hurried out of his office and reached the café in time to get the last two chairs from the sidewalk and carry them indoors.

  They almost collided as she came through the door. "What are you doing here? Didn't I make it clear how angry I am with you?"

  "You were pretty clear about it."

  She stomped away.

  "Your parents' problems aren't my fault and you'd realize that if you gave yourself a chance." He pushed the planters inside and helped her drag in the tables. Waited until they'd done the chore before he poured them each a cup of coffee and led her to a table. "Holly, didn't you say at the banquet that you appreciated my practical help?"

  "I did and thank you for helping put the furniture inside."

  He didn't want thanks. He wanted acknowledgement of what worked between them. "I've learned a lot from you. I might even be able to enjoy pink flowers now. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

  Her eyes softened. "I'm glad you are facing up to who you are—a blend of tough and tender."

  He hoped for her to see the possibilities. But the corners of her mouth drew into tight lines and he knew he had a long fight on his hands if he were to convince her.

  She held her cup so tightly her knuckles whitened. "But it isn't enough. There has to be more."

  "What more? We could have a solid relationship built on mutual interests."

  She rolled her eyes. "You sound like marriage is a contract."

  "It is. A legal contract between a man and a woman."

  "It's more than that. It's an emotional relationship."

  "Granted. I thought we were achieving that." He fought his years of pushing away every
soft and tender feeling, of hating romance, of scorning silly gestures. His parents didn't say the words of love. He'd learned, supposed, they weren't necessary. Knew the feeling without the words or acknowledgement. Now, when he wanted to say them, all those years of practicing not saying them stood in the way. He pushed through the habits, the teaching, the practice and yes, the fear. He found his way to the surface by focusing on Holly's face, seeing her sad, hurt eyes, remembering her sweetness and generosity. Surely, she'd believe him if he brought the words out of the secret place inside him, the place that housed the scared little boy, the child crying over the pink flowers. "Holly, I think I might love you." He'd said it. Breathed the words that meant so much once spoken. It gave him a sudden rush of triumph as if he'd reached the top of a steep slope and gained a view beyond words.

  "Steele, I think I love you too. That only makes this harder." She settled her gaze on the center of the table. "I don't know if it's enough. I don’t want to end up like my mother—needing something for so long, so badly that I ruin a marriage, a relationship, a family, and maybe even myself. I have to know that what we have is enough to satisfy me. I'm not sure it is." She pushed from the table, took their empty cups and carried them to the sink behind the counter. "I have to be sure," she murmured, before she turned on the water.

  He followed her as far as the counter, leaned his elbows on it and watched, waited, hoping for more. Hoping, he realized with such clarity he glanced overhead to see if she had somehow remotely flipped the lights on, that she'd do what she did best—believe in romance, fill his unfamiliar attempts with her bubbly optimism. Where were her verses and quotes of love now? When he was the one needing them?

  Or was it her needing them? He knew no special verses or he would offer them. Love is... He couldn't even remember the verses from the Bible he'd memorized in Sunday school.

  She turned and faced him. "Steele, I need time to think. I need to work things out. Until I do, I think it's best if we don't see each other. Except when we can't avoid it like church, across the street. That sort of thing."

  He searched her eyes, hoping for hesitation, regret, a change of heart. But her gaze had closed against him. He saw nothing but determined brown eyes.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wish things could be different."

  She turned away, returning to the hot water in the sink.

  He backed out of the café and onto the sidewalk where he stood staring about him, unable to think where to go next. Finally, with no destination in mind except to put his heart back the way it was before Holly had interfered, he strode down the street.

  Over the next few days he buried himself in work, putting in longer hours than ever before. He dealt with a number of files he'd been neglecting, closed others with a few notes and the last bill.

  He even agreed to represent the hotel across the street in dealing with a zoning bylaw. He usually avoided these meaningless legal wranglings. It kept him busy but was still boring enough to make his eyes water with stifled yawns.

  On Saturday, he persuaded Mike to go hiking with him in the mountains. Holly's parents owned a resort in the mountains. He wondered what it was like. From Glenn's list of assets he guessed it was more than a couple of cabins and a gas station. And hadn't Holly mentioned movie stars staying there?

  He increased his pace. Who needed to think about Holly? The sun was bright. The sky blue. The air pure. What else did a man need?

  "Steele," Mike called. "Wait for me."

  He realized he panted from exertion. His legs quivered. He must be getting out of shape. He sat down and waited for Mike to join him.

  "Trying to set a world record?" his brother demanded.

  "Just working off energy."

  Mike snorted. "Never seen you so angry."

  "I'm not angry." He kept his voice supremely calm.

  "Yeah. Tell that to someone who might believe you. Wouldn't have anything to do with Holly? I hear tell you two are on the outs."

  "We found we want different things in life."

  "Care to talk about it?"

  "Let me think." He rushed to his feet. "No." He rushed up the trail not caring that Mike was left behind. He reached the summit and sat down to enjoy the view. Enjoy, he ordered himself. As far as a man could see not a sign of another human. Could make a man feel mighty lonely if he was given to such emotional nonsense. Steele wasn't. It was a wonderful view. Worth the climb.

  Mike caught up and plunked down on the ground beside Steele, panting hard. "You can't outrun your feelings you know."

  "Who's running? Not me." He forced himself to remain seated, calmly looking out over the scene.

  "For a smart lawyer, you can be mighty dumb."

  Steele didn't answer. Lately he'd been feeling dumb all right. Why had he let Holly sweet talk him into thinking they had something in common? Why had he shared that stupid story about crying over pink flowers? Mom was right. Flowers were silly, and a man could make a fool of himself over a woman. He didn't have to look further than the mirror to know the truth of that statement.

  His days blended into a steady stream of work. He allowed himself to think of nothing else. He avoided the windows of his office but unbidden, his gaze went to the spot on his desk where Holly had daily put a flower in a tiny crystal vase. He did not miss the flower. And he'd get used to not seeing her.

  The phone rang and he answered it.

  "Hi there, young man, how are you doing?"

  "Fine, Grandpops. Are you keeping out of trouble?"

  "No fun in that now is there?"

  Steele leaned back, trying to remember how this exchange used to amuse him.

  "How's that little Holly girl?"

  "Fine."

  "That's not the way I hear it. Jean says she's moping."

  "She's worried about her parents' marriage." He ignored Pops's grunt of disbelief. If Holly had any other reason to be unhappy it was not his doing. It was hers. She'd been the one to close the door between them.

  "So how are things with you and Jean?" Surefire way to get Pops to leave him alone.

  "Couldn't be better." He chuckled heartily. "The old sweetie has agreed to marry me."

  Steele stilled his objections knowing they were based on something from his childhood. "Glad for both of you."

  "There's lots to consider for an old pair like us. We've both been to see our lawyers and signed papers and stuff. But I want to make sure I've done it all right. That's where having a lawyer in the family comes in handy. We signed pre-nups keeping all the inheritances in each family as they should be. I set up a fund for her in case something should happen to me. She didn't much care for that. Said she had plenty of her own to live on."

  After a few minutes, Steele admitted Grandpops had taken care of everything in a very efficient manner. "Here I was afraid you'd let all that romantic nonsense and memories of being young and fancy free affect your good sense."

  "Boy, it's possible to have both romance and practicality. Maybe that's what you need to learn. Seems all my girling lessons failed to take on you. You're not such a good student."

  Steele ignored the undeserved jibe. "Maybe you're not such a good teacher."

  "Whatever you did to that little gal it's time you swallowed your pride and fixed it."

  Sounded easy coming from Pops's mouth.

  "Steele, you have what that girl needs. Now go convince her of it. By the way, Jean and I are planning an engagement party for next Saturday. We decided to have it in Missoula as sort of a central place. We expect all the family to be in attendance."

  It wasn't even offered as an invite. It was an order if he'd ever heard one and no one ignored Pops's orders unless they wanted to deal with an irate old man.

  "I'll be there to congratulate you both."

  He stared at the phone long after he'd hung up, Pops's words circling in his head. You have what that girl needs. How could Pops think such a thing? Holly wasn't convinced. Steele sure wasn’t.

  Go convince her.
>
  First, he had to convince himself.

  11

  When Nan asked to stay with Holly and wanted her to help plan the engagement party, Holly had mixed feelings. She couldn't get enthused about all the flowers and candles. But she couldn't refuse Nan. Any more than her parents would be able to. Whether they wanted to see each other or not, she doubted either would have sufficient excuse to miss the party. Nan might accept an absence if one of them were in ICU but she could think of nothing short of that her grandmother would consider reason enough to miss this event.

  Even though Holly understood she would have to face Steele, which filled her heart with a queer mixture of anticipation and dread, she looked forward to the chance to see her parents together in the same room. This might be the answer to her prayers as a way to get her parents back together.

  When they each protested they couldn't come, Holly just laughed. "I'll let you explain that to Nan yourself." Neither of them had pursued the topic further.

  The best part of the whole thing, though, was working with Nan. She saw a side of her grandmother she'd never before seen. An efficient hard-driving side that rented a hall in Missoula and saw things got done according to her wishes and on her time schedule.

  And now the day of the party had arrived. Holly and Nan planned to spend the afternoon preparing.

  "Where do you want the flowers?" Holly asked.

  "Everywhere. I want the whole room to breathe perfume."

  "That would explain the scented candles in this box. Sure hope no one is allergic to scents."

  "If anyone complains we'll put the candles out. So what's happening between you and Steele?"

  "Nothing, Nan. I told you. We just don’t fit together."

  Nan put a large bouquet in the center of the head table then turned and took Holly's hands. "Child, do you love him?"