A Time to Forgive and Promise Forever (15 page)

He tried to be honest with her, as well as with himself. “I guess I'm not going to know exactly how I'll feel until it happens. The dedication will be hard.”

“People will expect you to talk about her.”

“Yes.” That would be the hardest thing. “But once it's over—” He looked at her, trying to find the words that would tell her how he felt. “Once it's over, I can forget about the dedication. I can concentrate on your beautiful dolphin, and just be thankful for it.”

The joy that flooded her eyes rewarded him. “Thank you, Adam.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I'm glad.”

He looked at the dolphin again, not letting his gaze stray toward the words. Tory should be able to
feel pride in her work without being hampered by the emotions he couldn't seem to control.

“It really is beautiful, you know. I should think clients would be lining up with commissions for you.” As soon as the words were out, it occurred to him that it sounded as if he wanted her to leave.

She glanced away. “I'm afraid it's not so easy as that. People have to know the kind of work you can do. But it's a start. Now I have something all my own to show prospective clients.”

“Back in Philadelphia.”

She looked at him, startled. “Of course.”

He shouldn't say anything. He didn't know where they were going or whether anything could come of this. But he couldn't let her walk away again.

“Do you have to go back? Couldn't you work somewhere else? Like here?”

 

Tory's heart seemed to stop beating as Adam's words penetrated. He wanted her to stay.

Careful, she thought, careful. Don't jump to conclusions that could hurt and embarrass both of you. Find out what's on his mind.

“I…I don't know what you mean.” She hated the fact that she sounded so hesitant. What had happened to her prized independence?

Adam looked as if he were struggling with what he meant, too. Before he could speak, quick footsteps sounded in the hallway.

“Adam, dear! Ms. Marlowe! I just couldn't stay away any longer. Once Tory told me it was nearly
finished, I had to see the memorial for myself.” Adam's mother-in-law fluttered into the room and threw her arms around him.

Mixed emotions flooded through Tory. Of course her client had every right to see the window she'd commissioned. The natural apprehension as to whether the woman would be pleased with her work mingled with a dread of what this might do to Adam's precarious acceptance of the memorial. Was he going to be able to handle this?

“Mona, I didn't expect…” Adam seemed to censor his words. “It's good to see you. If you'd let me know you were coming, I'd have met you at the airport.”

Mrs. Telforth took a step back, patting his cheek. “My dear, I didn't want to trouble you.”

She spun to Tory, holding out both hands. “Tory, dear.” She looked as she had each time Tory had seen her—elegant and expensive from the top of her carefully tinted ash-blond hair to the tips of her handmade Italian shoes.

“Mrs. Telforth, how are you?” Why didn't you warn us you were coming? And will your presence complicate an already difficult situation?

“Fine, fine.” She glanced around the room. “Is it finished? Can I see?”

Adam's smile was so stiff it looked as if it would break. “It's almost finished. I think you'll be pleased with what Tory's accomplished.” He took her arm and led her toward the table.

Tory followed, an incoherent prayer forming in her heart.
Please, please.

Adam and his mother-in-law stopped at the edge of the table. For a long moment no one said anything. Then Mrs. Telforth clasped both hands together in a gesture that reminded Tory of Jenny.

“It's beautiful. Oh, Adam, isn't it just beautiful? Wouldn't Lila have loved it?”

From where she stood, Tory could see the muscle twitching in his jaw. “Yes,” he said evenly. “I'm sure she'd have been pleased.”

Mrs. Telforth blotted tears with a lace handkerchief. “I wanted so much to have a memorial to her here, on the island, where her life was. Read the inscription for me, dear.”

His pain reached across the distance between them to grasp Tory's throat as she read aloud.

His gaze met Tory's over his mother-in-law's bowed head, and whatever hope had lingered in her heart turned to dust. All the light had gone out of him. He looked as stern and unforgiving as the sea.

T
ory crossed the workroom hours later to stare out the window at the darkening sky. Streaks of pink and purple, painted across the horizon, bathed the island in the gathering dusk. Soon it would be full dark.

Soon it would be time for her to leave. Her throat tightened. The window was finished. Once it was installed in the church, there was no reason for her to be here.

A few hours ago she'd stood in this room and heard Adam ask her to stay. She shook her head. That had been real, hadn't it?

She pressed her hand against her heart. Adam had shut down at the sight of his mother-in-law. She didn't think he was going to open up again. Whatever he'd intended to say to her had been wiped out.

“Tory.”

At the sound of his voice, her treacherous heart
persisted in filling with unreasonable hope. She turned to find him crossing the workroom toward her.

“Why did you disappear from dinner so quickly?”

Because it hurt too much to see you. “Well, I…I thought it was a time for family.”

A shadow crossed his face as he stood next to her at the window. “Mona's arrival was a surprise.”

Not a welcome one, to judge by his expression. “You said once she acted on whim.”

He shrugged, managing a smile. “That's Mona. Still, it's good for Jenny to spend a little time with her, I guess.”

“Of course.” Jenny had been obviously entranced with the arrival of her grandmother, and she'd spent the entire dinner hour filling her in on everything she'd done in the last month.

“She won't stay long,” he said. “She never does.”

The last thing she wanted to do was have a casual conversation with Adam about his late wife's mother. Or anything else, for that matter. She wanted to know what he'd been going to say before Mona had come fluttering into the studio. She couldn't ask.

Adam shook his head, as if to chase away his thoughts. “We never got to finish our conversation this afternoon. About you not leaving.”

“I don't…” She stopped, collected her thoughts. Adam would have to be clearer than that. “My job is almost finished. Why would I stay?”

He looked uncomfortable at the direct question. “You've been working hard. Don't you deserve a little vacation?”

She tried not to let disappointment show on her face. Adam was being kind. Everyone knew he was always kind.

“Whether I deserve it or not, I don't think I can afford it. I've got a struggling business to get on its feet, remember?”

Struggling was certainly the word. The amount she'd receive from this job would about cover the final expenses she owed from her mother's illness and death without much left over to pay the rent. “I have to start looking for my next commission.”

“Is there any reason you can't do that from here? As far as I can see, your business is pretty much in your own hands.”

She turned toward the window. It had gotten darker in the last few minutes, and she hoped the darkness hid her face. Adam was more right about that than he probably knew. Marlowe Stained Glass Studio consisted of her business cards, her small cache of equipment and her own two hands. She could work from anywhere.

But there was a very good reason that anywhere shouldn't be here. She'd done the last thing she should have done—she'd fallen in love with a man who wasn't ready to love again.

She couldn't let him guess that. Unfortunately, she'd never been especially good at hiding what she felt.

“I guess it's true that I can take my work anywhere.” She wasn't any good at beating around the bush, either. She swung to face him. “Why would you ask me to stay? Given the reason I came, I should think you'd be glad to see the last of me.”

His expression softened, his lips slipping into a rueful smile. “Come on, Tory. You know that's not true. With you around, I'm starting to feel seventeen again. You can't tell me you're not feeling that way, too.”

“I guess not, but…” She'd begun to hope until Mona Telforth had fluttered into the workroom. “I had the sense Mona's arrival changed things.”

Adam's jaw tightened. “I can't deny seeing her threw me. But after the initial shock passed, I realized it didn't have to change anything. Mona is Jenny's grandmother, so she'll always be part of our lives, but the past is past. Maybe it's time to move beyond it.”

Could he? Or was he fooling himself? And her.

Adam's step covered the space between them, and he took both of her hands in his. “We can't go back to our past, either. But I'd like for us to have a chance to get to know each other again.”

The fluttering began in the pit of her stomach and spread to her heart. How could she answer that?

Unfortunately she was way ahead of him. She didn't need time to get to know Adam again. She felt as if she'd already known him forever—known him and loved him. If he didn't feel the same, was any amount of time going to change that?

“Please.” His voice deepened, and the tone set her nerves vibrating in response. “That's what happened before. You left, and we never had a chance to find out what might happen between us. I don't want it to be that way again.”

She took a breath, trying to think beyond the clamor of her emotions. Trying to stifle the voice that
said she should grab this opportunity and hold fast because it wouldn't come again.

“I guess.” She steadied her voice. “I guess I can stay until the new window is dedicated, at least.”

And after that?

She'd probably find herself leaving Caldwell Island with a broken heart. But that was a sure thing anyway, wasn't it?

 

“Okay, I think that's going to do it.” Tory stepped back from the frame for the new window, nodding to the carpenter who'd spent the morning working in the church with her. “I'll see you tomorrow to install it.”

As the man gathered his tools, she heard a quick step behind her. She turned to find Miranda Caldwell crossing the sanctuary toward her.

“Hey, Tory.” Miranda gazed at the empty frame. “Is the new window really ready to go up?”

“Just about.” Tory's nerves jumped to attention. Did Miranda wonder why she was still here, in that case? What would the rest of the Caldwell clan think about her staying on at Twin Oaks? They might already be speculating about it. “We'll put it in tomorrow. That's always the scary part, when you visualize hours of work shattering. Pray that it goes well.”

“I will. I have been.” Miranda's green eyes, so like her cousin's, focused on Tory's face. “I hear you're staying around for a while.”

The island grapevine must work very efficiently. “I thought I'd stay until the dedication, anyway.”

Miranda clasped her hand warmly. “I'm glad, Tory. You're good for him, you know.”

She couldn't pretend not to know what Miranda was talking about. “I hope so.”

“I know so. Believe me, I know my cousin.”

Tory glanced upward, her gaze focusing on the image of Jesus walking on the water. Unconditional love shone in His face as He reached toward Peter.

Is that what I've come here to find, Lord? That kind of love?

“Maybe,” she said aloud.

“Trust,” Miranda said softly. “Just trust.”

Tory blinked back sudden tears. She and Miranda seemed able to speak to each other from the heart, and that was a precious thing. “I'm trying.”

Miranda nodded. “Okay, then. Oh, I almost forgot why I'm here, besides my abundant curiosity.” She thrust an envelope toward Tory. “This came to the inn for you. I thought it might be important.”

“Thank you.” She took the envelope, frowning at the return address. Why was
Glass Today
magazine writing to her?

Miranda gave her a quick hug. “Don't forget. Trust.” She was gone before Tory could respond.

Trust.
She looked at the window again.
I'm trying, Lord.

She ripped open the envelope, pulled out the single sheet of paper and stared at it in disbelief.
Glass Today
magazine wanted to do a story about her work in the Caldwell Cove church. She'd mentioned the project when she'd run into the magazine's pho
tographer at a glass show. He'd seemed interested, but she never expected this.

She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. This was an opportunity she hadn't had the nerve to dream of. If her work was featured in the magazine, she'd find the church commissions she longed for. She'd be able to create her own songs of praise in the windows she made, like the craftsmen who'd done the windows in this church so long ago.

Thank you. Thank you.

She looked around, feeling as if the news would explode from her if she didn't share it with someone. And then she realized she did have someone to share it with. She could tell Adam. Even if he wasn't ready yet to claim more than friendship between them, he'd be happy for her. They would celebrate together.

 

Did he have any idea what he was doing where Tory was concerned? Adam leaned against the workbench, absently running his hand along the planking for the new boat. The converted warehouse he used for construction was silent. Most of the crew had gone home already, making this a good time and place to think.

Except that thinking didn't seem to be getting him very far. Every time he tried to assess his relationship with Tory, his errant imagination presented him with an image of her face, tipped up to his in the moonlight. Her dark eyes seemed to promise love, comfort, understanding, faithfulness—all the things he'd believed he had once.

He seized the plane, feeling muscles flex as he ran it along the plank, the fresh smell of sawdust mingling with the salt air. He'd better concentrate on work, since he couldn't think about Tory without getting emotions tangled up in it.

Who was he kidding? Everything about Tory had to do with emotions. He'd asked her to stay, but he could hardly expect her to hang around here while he tried to decide if they had a future. She had a right to more than that.

He wanted to believe he could love again. But he'd run on autopilot for the last four years, telling himself he had enough in life with his family, his business and his responsibilities. He stopped planing, letting his palm rest on the warm wood. Since Tory came, he'd realized that wasn't enough. What he didn't know was whether he was ready for more.

Why not, some part of his mind demanded. Why can't you move on? Why can't you move on with Tory?

Tory wasn't Lila. She wasn't anything like Lila. Tory understood.

He heard the creak of the wooden door, and something told him it was Tory before he turned around. She stood in the doorway for a moment, the light behind her, and he couldn't make out her face.

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.