A Time to Forgive and Promise Forever (23 page)

“Good job.”

His son gave him a smile that seemed a little easier today. Because he was feeling more comfortable around Tyler or because he'd succeeded in getting them to take this trip to Angel Isle today? Tyler didn't know him well enough to be sure.

That added to the list of things he didn't know about this child of his. Resentment had bubbled beneath the surface since they'd looked at those photograph albums.

Sammy, tiny in his grandfather's hands, sitting up in a high chair, reaching for a rattle held by one of his uncles, showing two teeth in a proud grin. He'd missed his son's babyhood, his toddler years. All those landmarks would never come again.

Miranda climbed lightly out of the
Spyhop,
and he followed her, carrying the picnic basket her mother had thrust on them as they went out the door. Apparently Sallie thought they couldn't make the trip without sustenance, even though Miranda had insisted they'd be back for supper.

He patted the pocket where he'd put his cell phone and intercepted a quick glance from Miranda.

“Couldn't leave it behind?”

“Never,” he said firmly. “It's permanently attached.”

She started up the path, resting her hand on Sammy's shoulder. It was an automatic gesture, one he hadn't quite had nerve enough to make with the boy yet for fear Sammy would pull away.

The resentment burned again as he followed them. Only one thing had kept him from lashing out at Miranda the night before when he'd looked at the photographs of all he'd missed in his son's life. It continued to keep him silent.

Miranda's devotion to their child shone so brightly that a blind person could see it. She'd been wrong not to tell him about her pregnancy, but he had to admit, to himself if not to her, that she'd been trying to do what she thought was best for their son.

Miranda and Sammy paused at the bend in the path, waiting for him under a live oak, its branches festooned with Spanish moss. “Is something wrong?” She pushed bronze curls from her face.

“No.” He couldn't tell her he'd lagged behind because he'd been trying to figure out what kind of relationship they could have after everything that had happened between them.

“We're almost there,” Sammy said. He darted ahead. “Come on and see the cottage.”

He heard the quick catch of Miranda's breath.

“He doesn't know I'm not a stranger here, does
he?” he said, and watched the color rise in her cheeks.

“I've never found it necessary to tell him we came here on our honeymoon, if that's what you mean.” Her mouth was set firmly. “Did you think I should?”

For an instant he wanted to say something hurtful, something that would pay her back for all he'd missed. He shook his head. “I don't want to fight with you, Miranda.”

Her chin came up. “Don't you?”

“No. Not that I'm not tempted, but I remember what it's like to have parents who hated each other. I won't show Sammy the kind of relationship they had.”

She seemed to digest that for a moment. “I don't see any reason we can't try to be—” she paused as if searching for the right word “—friendly.”

“Come on!” Sammy shouted impatiently. “Don't you want to start looking?”

“We're coming,” Miranda called. She looked as if she would say something more, then turned and went quickly up the path.

He followed, rounded the bend and came to a halt. The cottage stretched in front of them, its porch reaching out welcoming arms across the front of the gray shingled building. He'd carried Miranda up those steps, across the porch, laughing and kissing at the same time.

Miranda glanced at him. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” He hurried to catch up with her, and they went together up the steps to the porch where Sammy waited, dancing with impatience. Nothing
was wrong except that he'd suddenly been slapped with a whole raft of memories he didn't know what to do with.

Miranda seemed oblivious to the effect the cottage had on him. She took the key from the nail above the door and unlocked it. Sammy rushed in, and she crossed to the windows to throw open the shutters, letting sunlight stream across the wide pine floorboards and touch the hooked rugs and faded chintzes.

“I'm going to look upstairs. Maybe it's hidden in one of the closets.” Sammy scrambled up the open stairway.

Tyler stood in the doorway, watching Miranda. They'd married in a tiny church miles away on the mainland, and she'd wept a little afterward because she hadn't been married in her own church. He'd held her in his arms and kissed the tears away.

They'd rented a boat and come here, to the place she loved, for their stolen honeymoon. He'd carried her over the threshold he stood on now, laughing and triumphant. Had that triumph been for marrying the woman he loved or for outwitting their families? He tried to look rationally at the kid he'd been at twenty, but he couldn't.

Emotion had clouded his judgment then. He pushed away from the doorjamb and crossed the room to help her with the shutters. He wasn't a kid any longer. He had to concentrate on establishing, if not a friendship, at least a truce with Miranda. Maybe that was the best they could hope for.

Miranda thumped a recalcitrant shutter with her fist. “This one always sticks.”

He grabbed the handle and pulled. With a creak of hinges, it grumbled open.

Sunlight crossed Miranda's face, bringing out the gold flecks in her eyes. She smiled, pushing back the opposite shutter. “You're just trying to make me look bad.”

An answering smile touched his lips. “I'd never do that.” He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “Never.”

Her hand was arrested on the shutter, as if she'd forgotten she held it. Her eyes met his, wide and questioning.

What was he doing? That had to be the question in her mind, just as it was in his. Surely his brain had a coherent answer somewhere, but it had gotten lost in a flood of memories and feelings brought on by this place, this woman.

“Tyler…”

His name came out on her breath. He cupped her cheek with his hand. Her lips were only inches away. And then he kissed her.

Crazy, crazy, something in his brain shouted, but he wouldn't listen to it. Miranda was as warm and sweet as he remembered, and he didn't want to listen to logic or reason, not now.

He released her mouth, pressed his cheek against her hair. The words came before he thought. “What happened, Miranda? What happened to us?”

A
ll the wounded places in Miranda's heart were flooded with a warm, healing light. She'd waited for Tyler's kiss during the long, arid years. Now, with this one meeting of lips, hearts had met, too.

No, oh, no. She drew back, slowly and painfully, feeling as if she were wrenched away and had left her heart behind.

She couldn't make the same mistake again. They'd been down this road together before, and it had ended in unimaginable pain. They couldn't repeat that.

She took a step away from him, knowing the light from the window showed him every expression on her face. Her longing must be written there for him to see, but she couldn't let that matter.

“I'm sorry,” he said at last, his dark eyes masking whatever he felt. “That shouldn't have happened.”

“No.” She cleared her throat and tried to steady
her voice. “You asked what happened to us, but we both know the answer to that. If we'd been right for each other, we wouldn't have parted. We'd have fought for our marriage instead of giving up at the first obstacle.”

His mouth tightened. “We were certainly too young to make lifetime decisions.”

“Yes.” She tried to smile. “Very young, and in too much of a hurry.” She thought of her younger self, crazy in love and longing to be Tyler's wife. She'd thought marriage was the one thing that would guarantee she'd never lose him. Instead, it had driven them apart.

“I would have stayed with you, you know.” Tyler's dark brows drew down over his eyes, making him look formidable. “If I'd known about the baby, I'd have tried to make it work.”

Because of Sammy, he'd have tried to make a go of something that would have made both of them miserable. Even knowing how badly things had turned out between them, she couldn't help but wince at that.

“I intended to. But when I came back to Baltimore—”

His mouth hardened. “I think I can guess. My mother intercepted you, didn't she?”

She nodded. Repeating the cruel things his mother had said wouldn't do any good.

“We can't go back and rewrite the past.” She took a step back. “All we can do is try and make things as right as possible for our son.”

He nodded, his face bleak. “Friends, I think you said. I guess we'd better try.”

He didn't look as if the prospect gave him much joy, but then she could hardly expect that it would.

“Isn't anybody going to help me hunt?” Sammy's plaintive voice floated down from upstairs.

“I'll go,” Tyler said. He crossed the room with quick strides and hurried up the steps as if he couldn't wait to be away from her.

She rubbed her arms, cold in spite of the warmth of the day. Tyler had taken all the sunshine out of the room with him, leaving only a gray, draining chill that seeped into her bones and made her feel as old as Gran.

She forced herself to walk across the room and unpack the picnic basket Tyler had left on the round oak table. Lemonade in a jug, red Delicious apples, a bag of oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies—comfort food, and she was certainly in need of comfort. Maybe her mother had guessed that was how it would be, coming back with Tyler to the place where they'd been so happy.

She glanced up when she heard thumps coming from upstairs. They must be pulling things out of the storage spaces beneath the eaves.

The light chatter of Sammy's voice mixed with the deeper chime of Tyler's answers. Sammy was getting past his reserve where his father was concerned. She closed her eyes, groping in prayer.

Lord, at first all I wanted was to get rid of Tyler, but now I see that's not right. Like it or not, Sammy
needs to know his father. I'm trying not to be a coward about this, but I surely could use Your help.

Some of the tension eased out of her in the silence, and she could look at the situation with more clarity. At some level Tyler must still be attracted to her, but he obviously didn't feel that marriage was forever. If he did, he'd never have agreed to the quick divorce his mother had pushed through.

So she had to find a way, for Sammy's sake, to keep things at a calm, friendly level between them. Committed as they were to spending time together with Sammy, that wouldn't be easy, but it had to be done.

One thing she could never do was betray to Tyler the fact that, for her, marriage was forever. She'd never stopped feeling married to him, no matter how many legal documents or miles or years stood between them. She'd never stop feeling that, but it would be a disaster to let Tyler suspect such a thing.

By the time she'd found napkins and glasses and spread the red-and-white checked cloth over the table, Tyler and Sammy came down the open stairway. One look at Sammy's face told her they'd found nothing.

“No luck?”

He shook his head, his mouth set in a determined line. “But there's lots more places to look. We can't give up yet.”

“How about a little snack before you search some more?”

“Sounds good,” Tyler said, as easily as if he hadn't been kissing her only a little while earlier.

Sammy slid onto a chair and picked up a cookie. “We went way back under the eaves, Momma. I found a box of old cars. Do you think we could take them home?”

“Why don't you bring them down and put them in the game room closet instead. Then you can play with them when your cousins are here.”

Sammy nodded reluctantly. “Guess that would be okay.”

“You come out here a lot, do you?” Tyler glanced from her to Sammy as he asked the question. Was he remembering when they'd come alone to the cottage, heady with their new status as man and wife?

“Lots in the summer,” Sammy answered. “Gran says when Great-grandpa was little, they used to stay out here all summer long. Wish we could do that.”

“We have the inn to run now,” she reminded him. “Besides, if we did that, you couldn't play T-ball in the summer.”

Sammy nodded, then cast a sideways glance at his father. “First practice for T-ball is tomorrow after school. We're s'posed to bring a parent. You could go, if you want.”

“I'd like that,” Tyler said. He reached out a little tentatively to ruffle Sammy's hair. “I'd like that a lot.”

She'd been right. Sammy was adjusting to Tyler. She blinked. Both of them would be embarrassed at the idea that they'd brought her to tears.

An electronic peal startled her. “What was that?”

Tyler reached for his pocket. “Cell phone. Never
go anywhere without it, remember?” He pulled the phone out, and with it came a square of paper that fluttered to lie, face up, on the floor. It was the photograph of Sammy.

 

For a moment Tyler froze, not sure what to do. He'd agreed to Miranda's decision that Sammy not be told about the photo. She'd probably assume he'd done this deliberately.

The phone buzzed again, and he snapped it off. He reached for the picture, but Sammy had already grabbed it. Over their son's head he met Miranda's gaze and mouthed a quick sorry.

“Hey, where'd you get this picture of me?”

Sammy looked at him, and the lie that had been tentatively forming in his mind died. Whatever he told his son, it couldn't be a falsehood.

“Well, I…” Okay, where were the words? He didn't have this much trouble dancing around an unpalatable truth in a business deal. Which just went to prove that he was better off avoiding emotional entanglements.

“Someone sent the picture to your father.” Miranda didn't seem to have his difficulty in coming out with the truth now that she'd been forced into it. He could read the worry she was trying to hide.

Sammy frowned at the picture. “You mean that bird-watcher guy sent it to you?”

“What bird-watcher guy?” He addressed the question to Miranda, but she looked as perplexed as he felt.

“You know, Momma.” Sammy dropped the
photo on the table. “That guy who stayed at the inn a while ago. He had those neat binoculars he let me look through.”

“You mean Mr. Dawson.”

“Yeah, him.” Sammy turned away, losing interest. “I'm gonna look in the closets where the games are.”

“Just a minute.” Miranda touched his arm, stopping him. “Are you sure Mr. Dawson took this picture?”

He nodded. “One day when I got home from school. He said he wanted to finish up a roll or something.” He shrugged. “He said he'd give me the pictures, but he never did. Can I go now?”

“Okay.” Miranda managed a smile, but her eyes were troubled. “You put all those games back when you're done, though, hear?”

“I'll be there in a minute to help you.” As soon as he'd found out what Miranda knew about this Dawson character.

But she got in with the first question as soon as Sammy had disappeared. “Do you know him?”

“I know a lot of people, but nobody called Dawson comes to mind. What did he look like?”

And why didn't anybody notice him taking pictures of our son? That probably wasn't a fair question. This was Caldwell Island, where no one thought twice about a visitor with a camera.

Miranda shrugged. “Average height, average looks. Forties, at a guess. He said he was a birder, and we get a fair number of them. He went out every day with a camera and binoculars. He didn't appear to take any particular interest in Sammy.”

Tyler drummed his fingers on the table, mind moving rapidly through possibilities. “When exactly was he here? What do you know about him?”

“Last month some time.” She frowned. “He stayed about a week, I think. When we get home, I can look him up on the computer and be more exact.” She met Tyler's gaze, hers perplexed. “Why? Why would he take the picture and send it to you?”

“I don't know. But I think the sooner we find out, the better.” He shoved back his chair and glanced at his watch. “Do you think another hour of this will satisfy Sammy?”

Miranda's smile erased some of the worry in her face. “Nothing short of finding the dolphin will satisfy Sammy, but I think he'll have to be content with that today.”

“I'll go help him look.” A very good idea, he told himself as he walked away from Miranda. Because the longer he stayed in the same room with her, the more he wanted to kiss her again.

He found Sammy burrowing into the depths of a large closet off the game room and set to work to move some of the folding tables and chairs that were stowed there. Unfortunately that didn't serve as enough of a distraction.

What had he been thinking, to let himself get that close to Miranda? He must have been crazy. One moment he'd been noticing how the sunlight through the window brought out the gold flecks in her eyes, and the next he'd been holding her.

He'd known it was a mistake while he was doing
it, but he couldn't stop himself. Kissing Miranda again had felt like water after thirst or food after hunger—something so elemental it couldn't be denied. It had felt like coming home after years of wandering.

But it wasn't, and they both knew it. Whatever the source of that lightning between them, it didn't translate into marriage. They'd tried that, and they'd both come away scarred.

Now there was Sammy to figure into the mix, making it even more difficult. They couldn't risk letting Sammy be hurt by their impossible attraction.

Don't count on anyone. They'll only let you down.

His father's words didn't quite fit in this situation. He and Miranda had let each other down.

Sammy sat on his heels and stared disconsolately into the empty closet. “Do you think maybe there's a secret hiding place?”

Tyler reached in to thump the walls with his fist. “Seems pretty solid to me. I'm sorry, son.”

It was the first time he'd used the word to Sammy. He held his breath, waiting for a reaction.

But Sammy's mind seemed to be on the failure of his search, not on anything his father might say. “I thought it would be here.” He straightened, seizing a stack of games to put back. “But I'm not giving up. I'm going to find it.”

Had his son's stubbornness come from him or Miranda? They probably both had more than their fair share.

“Maybe we can look some more another time. I think your mother wants to start back soon.”

He thought the boy would argue, but Sammy seemed to realize it would do no good. “We can come again some other day, okay?”

“Okay.” Tyler hefted one of the folding tables. “Let's get these things put away.”

Doing a simple job with his son was oddly satisfying. Had he and his father ever done anything so mundane together? Not that he could recall. His father had always been too busy with the company. Their rare times together had been scripted—business social events where he was supposed to occupy some colleague's children while his father closed a deal.

“I want to bring that box of cars down, then I'm ready.” Sammy darted off.

Tyler went to the living room, but their snack had been cleared away and Miranda was nowhere in sight. He pushed through the front screen door and saw her.

She sat on a fallen log under the palmettos, perfectly still. A few feet from her, a deer nosed its way through the undergrowth.

He eased the door closed. If Miranda knew he was there, she gave no sign. Her entire being was concentrated on the graceful brown creature that moved closer and closer to her.

His throat tightened. Miranda fit into island life as surely as the deer in the woods or the dolphins at play in the sound. She moved to the rhythm of the tides and the seasons.

Little wonder she hadn't been able to adapt to the kind of life he offered her. He'd told himself at the time she hadn't tried, but that had been unfair. She couldn't. She belonged here.

Their son would have to bridge two worlds. That would be difficult enough, without adding uncertainty over the relationship between his mother and father.

Tyler and Miranda would have to step as carefully as the deer did. And no matter how hard they tried, there were no guarantees they could do this without damaging their son.