A Time to Forgive and Promise Forever (26 page)

“I guess we'd better get along over to Uncle Jeff's place.” She started toward the door, and he followed. “You'll get to take on the whole Caldwell clan at once.”

“Is this get-together for my benefit? Are they preparing tar and feathers?”

A smile tugged at her lips as she stepped into a shaft of sunlight. “Not that I know of, though I wouldn't put anything past those brothers of mine. No, we just all have Sunday dinner together at least once a month.”

“Another tradition.” To his surprise, the words came out sounding wistful. There'd been precious little tradition in his family, unless the predictable fact that his father would miss every celebration counted as one.

Miranda didn't seem to notice. She was glancing around the church lawn, apparently counting heads.

People still stood in small clusters, probably catching up on the events of the past week. Some of the children had started a game of tag under the swaying Spanish moss of the live oaks. The girls'
pale dresses fluttered around their legs. Across the narrow street, a boat revved its motor at the dock—some Sunday sailor off for a ride, probably. What did a scene like this have to do with him?

“We'd best collect Sammy and get on our way,” Miranda said.

“Just a moment.” He stopped her with a hand on her arm.

She glanced up at his touch, something unguarded showing in her eyes for an instant. “What's wrong? If you don't want to go—”

“Of course I intend to go,” he said impatiently. “I told Sammy I would. But there's something I need to talk with you about first.”

He'd better tell Miranda what he feared was behind Sammy's search for the dolphin. Probably she'd laugh at the idea, and then he'd be able to forget it.

“What is it?” Apprehension colored her voice, as if she felt anything he wanted to discuss must be unpleasant.

“Your grandmother told me the rest of the story about the dolphin.” An elderly couple moved slowly past them. He stepped off the walk and lowered his voice. “The part you left out. About how couples who marry under the dolphin's gaze are supposed to be especially blessed.”

“That's how the story goes.” Her cheeks grew pink. She was probably thinking, as he had, that there hadn't been anything particularly blessed about the painful brevity of their marriage.

“It made me wonder if that's what's behind this
treasure hunt of Sammy's.” He couldn't think of any tactful way of saying this. “Do you think he's got some notion that finding the dolphin is going to fix his parents' marriage?”

The words sounded even more foolish said out loud than in his mind. He waited for Miranda to tell him how ridiculous that was.

Instead, dismay filled her face. “It never occurred to me. If that's what he's thinking, we've got to do something about it.”

“You know him better than I do.” For the first time, he didn't feel resentful at the thought. “If it never occurred to you, it probably didn't to him.”

Worry lines crinkled her forehead. “He has been awfully obsessed with that story lately. I wish I could say the idea is impossible, but I can't.” She met his gaze, her green eyes clouded. “Tyler, what are we going to do?”

We, she'd said. For the first time, she'd included him in a decision.

“We can't do anything right now.” Sammy, abandoning his game, was running toward them. At the curb, Caldwells piled into various vehicles. “We've got Sunday dinner to attend. Let's give it some time. Maybe I'm wrong.”

Sammy ran up and grabbed his hand, and it seemed natural to take Miranda's arm. Linked, they started down the walk. They might almost look like a family.

 

Miranda balanced the pie carrier with the apple crumb pies as she crossed the veranda of Twin Oaks,
Uncle Jefferson's house. Tyler came behind her, carrying two lemon meringues. If he felt any nervousness about encountering the entire Caldwell clan, he didn't show it. His face was perfectly composed.

They went through the open front door and into the spacious center hallway. She glanced at the graceful sweep of the curving staircase, the crystal chandelier, the rice-carved drop-leaf table surmounted by its Empire mirror, trying to see them through Tyler's eyes.

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I take it this is the wealthy branch of the family.”

“You might say that.” Everyone knew Uncle Jeff put success ahead of everything else. He and Tyler might have a lot in common.

Except that Uncle Jeff had begun to change in the last year, seeming to want to make amends for the long breach between him and her father. She couldn't think of anything that was likely to make Tyler change.

She swept that unproductive thought from her mind. “We'll put the pies on the buffet.”

He followed her into the dining room—more crystal, more rice-carved mahogany. The room's French doors stood open to the veranda overlooking the marsh. Most folks were gathered out there, except for a cluster of kids checking out the bounty on the long table.

“You young ‘uns get out of my way now, y'heah?” Miz Becky, the Gullah housekeeper who
kept Twin Oaks running smoothly, swept through the door from the kitchen with a steaming tureen in her hands.

She caught sight of them as she put the dish of sweet potatoes down, and her face broke into a broad smile. “Miranda, child, it's good to see you. This here must be Sammy's daddy.”

Tyler put the pies he carried on the sideboard and shook hands.

“This is Miz Becky. She takes care of everyone at Twin Oaks.”

Miranda didn't say what else she was thinking—that Miz Becky was a fount of knowledge where people were concerned. She'd be happy to be on the back porch right now, snapping beans into a bowl with Miz Becky, listening to her wise counsel about the difficult art of raising children.

Tyler nodded toward the laden table. “You must be a gourmet cook, as well, if you produced all that.”

“It's nothing. Everybody bring something, it's not too much for anybody.” Miz Becky raised her voice. “Jenny, you go on and tell your granddaddy the food is up now. Somebody better ask the blessing ‘fore it gets cold.”

The group on the veranda must have heard her, because Caldwells started streaming into the dining room. Her cousin Adam held hands with his fiancée, Tory, and the sight touched her heart. For so long it had seemed Adam would never find his true love, but now happiness shone in their faces. In June, dolphin or no, they'd be wed at St. Andrew's.

Should she point out to Sammy the happy marriages that had taken place even without the dolphin? Not until she'd discussed it with Tyler. She glanced at his strong face, familiar yet somehow hiding thoughts and beliefs she knew nothing of.

From now on, she had to take his opinions into account in every decision she made for Sammy. She wasn't a single parent any longer. Tyler had as much to say in raising their son as she did. The idea sent a shiver sliding along her arms.

I'm not ready.
She sent up an almost involuntary prayer.
I don't want to share, and I don't want Sammy to accept Tyler's values.

That was at the core of her resistance, she knew suddenly. She'd loved Tyler, married him in spite of common sense. She loved him still, as hopeless as that was.

But that love didn't keep her from looking at Tyler honestly. Every now and then, she'd get glimpses of the boy she'd fallen for, think she saw the man he could be. Then he'd turn back into Tyler the business tycoon, and she was afraid that could never change.

T
yler snapped the phone shut with a quick movement and slid it into his pocket. He stood on the inn's porch, looking at the fishing boats moving down the channel. Josh's early morning call probably meant nothing at all, but he couldn't shake off the uneasiness that gripped him.

The fact that Josh, of all people, was in the office this early on a Monday morning was startling enough. The fact that Josh was concerned about business was downright astonishing.

Tyler planted his hands on the porch railing, wishing it were the polished surface of his desk. He'd talked with Henry several times over the last few days, and his assistant had assured him all was fine with the Warren deal. Henry had years of experience to back him up. Nevertheless—

In view of Josh's concern it wouldn't be a bad idea to go to the office for a couple of days. Sammy
would understand if he explained it to him, wouldn't he?

Miranda was another story. Instinct told him she wouldn't look favorably on his leaving just when Sammy was warming up to him. Still, she'd been the one to mention the possibility that first night, when she'd brought her proposition to him.

That night had been a little over a week ago, but it felt like forever. In such a short time his life had changed beyond recognition. Would he go back, if he could, to a time before the photo of Sammy arrived on his desk?

A cold hand gripped his heart at the thought. If it hadn't been for that mysterious visitor who'd mailed the picture to him, he might never have known he had a son.

Now that he did, his business success had become more meaningful. He had a son to inherit what he'd built, instead of just hordes of eager relatives with their hands out.

He didn't intend to let anything sour this deal. If that meant a few days away from the island, so be it. Miranda would have to understand. He went quickly into the house.

He poked his head into the office, then walked through the dining room and the kitchen. No Miranda, but Sallie was pouring a cup of coffee.

“Miranda?” He raised his eyebrows.

She gestured with her mug toward the back door. “She's out at the shed, working on Mary Lou.”

Mary Lou? He pushed through the screen door,
then crossed the lawn to the weathered shed that sat on the edge of the marsh.

He paused in the doorway, letting his eyes adjust to the dim interior. Wearing her usual uniform of jeans and T-shirt, Miranda bent over an elderly bicycle, a can of oil in her hand. She'd tied her hair back with a yellow ribbon, but curls escaped to cluster against her neck.

“Performing surgery on that thing?” The bike in question was an old-fashioned girl's bike with coaster brakes and a wicker basket attached to the handlebars. “It looks terminal.”

She looked up at his approach, giving him the smile that had once twisted his heart out of shape. Not any longer, he assured himself.

“How can you talk that way about Mary Lou? She's one of my oldest friends.”

“I can believe the old part.” He squatted next to her. “Did someone take away your car keys?”

“No.” Her heart-shaped face took on a wary look. “Sammy's getting a two-wheeler for his birthday, and I thought I'd get Mary Lou in shape so I can ride with him. Just until I'm sure he knows how to handle himself.”

“His birthday.” He repeated her words slowly. “When is it?”

“Thursday.” Miranda's look turned defensive. “You knew the date. I showed you his birth certificate.”

Clearly something he should have remembered. He wasn't very good at this father business. “You might have reminded me.”

Miranda stood, dusting off the knees of her jeans. She lifted the bike to spin the front wheel.

“I guess you know now.” Her voice was carefully neutral, as if she was determined not to betray whatever she thought about a father who didn't remember his son's birthday.

He stood, too, frowning. “About this bicycle…”

“I know she doesn't look like much, but she'll do for what I have in mind,” Miranda said quickly.

“Not this one, although I think you're wrong about that. The bicycle Sammy is getting for his birthday. You've bought it already?”

“Not exactly.” The wariness was back in her eyes. “I ordered it. I have to go pick it up tomorrow.”

Resentment pricked him. “You're giving Sammy a new bicycle for his birthday. What do I get to give him that could possibly be more exciting than that?”

She leaned the bike against a workbench. “We're not in a competition, Tyler. Sammy will love whatever you give him.”

“I haven't done very well so far.” Like the baseball glove, for instance.

She studied him for a moment, as if assessing how much it bothered him. “Well, how about if we go in on the bike together? Trust me, this is a gift he won't turn down. He's been wanting a new bike for ages.”

He'd like to find something even bigger than a bicycle, but he recognized how foolish that would be. He and Miranda weren't competing, as she'd said. Little as he knew about parenting, he knew that wouldn't be good for Sammy.

“Okay. The bike is from both of Sammy's parents. Where do we pick it up?”

“You don't have to go with me. I can manage it myself.”

That was predictable. “I'm sure you can, but you're not going to.”

Her lips twitched. “Has anybody mentioned to you lately how stubborn you are?”

“Seems to me I've heard that a time or two. I don't think I have a monopoly on it.”

Her smile took over, making her green eyes sparkle. “You may have a point there. Okay. I ordered it from a bike shop out on the highway near Savannah. They said I could pick it up tomorrow morning.”

“We'll pick it up.”

He wasn't sure how this had happened. Hadn't he come out here to tell Miranda he had to run up to Baltimore tomorrow? Well, it didn't have to be tomorrow, necessarily.

“By the way, I might need to go to the office for a couple of days soon.”

He almost imagined he saw regret in her eyes before her lashes swept down to hide her reaction. “Is that really necessary?”

Was it? He thought again of Josh's call and of Henry's reassurances. “I don't know.” The uncharacteristic uncertainty made his voice sharp. “It may be. It was part of our agreement that I'd go back for a few days if I had to, remember?”

“I'm not the one you need to convince. If you're going away, you'd best tell Sammy ahead of time.”

Amazing how difficult a simple thing like that sounded. “I thought maybe you'd do that,” he said, knowing what her answer would be.

Her smile flickered again. “Sorry. Breaking bad news is part of being a parent. You may as well start getting into practice.”

Oddly enough, he liked the fact that she expected something of him. “Meaning I don't get to just do the fun stuff.”

“No way.” She wiped her hands with a paper towel from the workbench. “Do you really have to go to Baltimore? Can't you take care of whatever it is from the Charleston office?”

He shook his head. “It's an entirely different division.”

She looked at him blankly, and he realized he'd never talked to her about the changes that had taken place in the corporation over the past few years.

“Charleston is the home office for a group of textile mills in Georgia and South Carolina. We acquired them a couple of years ago. They fit in well with the rest of our holdings.”

“And this problem doesn't have anything to do with textiles.” If she wondered why he'd decided to expand into her part of the world, she didn't mention it.

“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, realizing that the familiar tension had taken up residence there since the talk with Josh. He hadn't noticed it had all but disappeared during the past week. “We have an important meeting coming up soon over a
contract to supply compressors for a company that could be a major new customer for us.”

She leaned against the workbench, looking for all the world as if she really was interested. “Are there problems with it?”

“There shouldn't be.” Again that edge of tension pricked him. “The deal was completely in place when I left. Henry—my assistant, Henry Carmichael—should be able to handle everything without a hitch.”

“Then why do you feel you need to go back?”

It was a fair question, but he wasn't used to explaining his actions to anyone. Parenthood changed that, too, it seemed.

“I had a call from Josh this morning. For some reason, he's got the wind up. He can't even tell me why. Just a feeling.” He shrugged. “Maybe he's belatedly developing a sense of responsibility. He knows how important this is. Without this contract, we could be facing extensive layoffs. Nobody wants that.”

“I didn't realize.” Miranda's expressive eyes mirrored guilt. “I didn't think about the people who might be affected by what you do.”

“It's not something I can ever forget.” He shook his head. “I wish—”

“That you were there,” she finished for him.

He looked up, startled. “No. Actually, I was wishing I thought I could count on Josh the way you count on your family.”

“That's what families are for. Counting on. And driving you crazy, of course.”

He liked the way her face softened when she talked about her family. Liked the way the Caldwells trusted each other, relied on each other.

“My father always said you can't count on anyone but yourself,” he said abruptly, surprising himself. “That was his philosophy.”

She turned her soft look on him. “That doesn't mean it has to be yours.”

“No.” He looked at that thought in some surprise. “I guess it doesn't.”

The unaccustomed understanding seemed to weave strands of connection between them. He thought Miranda's cheeks flushed a little.

“If you feel you have to go, I'm sure Sammy will understand.”

Will you, Miranda? This wasn't about Miranda. This was about his commitment to his son.

“I won't miss his birthday.” He said the words with a sureness that surprised him.

Priorities. His father had always put business first. That wasn't the kind of father he wanted to be.

Approval shone in her eyes. “I'm glad you feel that way.”

“I'll have Henry go over everything again, just to be on the safe side. It'll be all right.”

If he did end up explaining to Sammy that he had to go away, he'd make very sure it was necessary.

He smiled wryly. Maybe the secret to this father business was to do the opposite of everything his father had done. That, and make sure what he did earned that soft look of approval from Miranda.

 

Had she handled that conversation with Tyler about business correctly? Miranda sat in the porch swing that evening, looking across the inland waterway. This situation was so difficult that, at every step, she felt she risked making an irrevocable move.

Tyler would probably have to figure out for himself where the balance was between business and parenting. No one else could determine that for him.

Her initial reaction, when she'd believed Tyler couldn't hang around long enough to be any kind of a father, had certainly been easier to live with. But each day, Tyler continued to prove her wrong.

Lord, I confess I never really thought about the people who depend upon Tyler's business. I've been so focused on the personal that I never looked beyond that. Forgive me for being so shortsighted.

A few feet away from her, Tyler and her father sat in matching rocking chairs, talking a little, then falling silent, then talking again. Their conversation wasn't strained any longer, and she thanked God for that fact. If Tyler was to be a true father to Sammy, he had to be on cordial terms, at least, with the man who'd been both father and grandfather to Sammy since he was born.

What did Daddy think about all this? He'd maintained a careful silence on the subject, and she thought she knew why. Clayton Caldwell was an honorable man. He would never want to betray that he had a negative thought about the man who was Sammy's father.

If Tyler wanted a model of what a father should be, he obviously couldn't use his own. Her heart hurt when she thought of what Tyler had betrayed about his relationship with his father. Given that model, it was a wonder he was even trying.

He
was
trying, and she had to help him. The better a father Tyler was by the time he left the island, the safer she could feel about sending Sammy to spend time with him.

Tyler was leaning forward, arguing some point with her father in a friendly way. She let her gaze linger on the stubborn line of his jaw, the flash of interest in his eyes, the vigor of his movement when he gestured. The same determination to succeed that had fueled twenty-year-old Tyler's will to take over the company when his father died could make him succeed at fatherhood.

She had to help him, and that meant she had to let him take equal responsibility for both the joys and difficulties of raising Sammy. That meant no more unilateral decisions about her son. She suspected Tyler could never guess just how difficult that was for her.

Help me with this one, Lord. I'm not good at sharing where Sammy is concerned. Next to You, Daddy will be the best model of a father Tyler is likely to find. Please, open his heart to Daddy and to You.

The screen door creaked, and Sammy bounded onto the porch. He made a beeline for Tyler, who stopped what he was saying to smile at him.

“What's up?”

Sammy grabbed the arm of the rocker. “Well, I was thinking about when we could go back to Angel Isle to look for the dolphin again. You and Momma said we'd go again, remember?”

“I remember.” Tyler tousled Sammy's hair, and their son grinned. “And if I'd forgotten, I'm sure you'd remind me.”

“I was thinking we could go this weekend. If we went on Saturday, we'd have lots of time.”