A Time to Forgive and Promise Forever (27 page)

She'd half hoped Sammy had forgotten about this. Clearly her son had inherited his father's single-minded determination.

“Sammy, you know that folks have looked for the dolphin for a long time without finding it,” her father said. “Seems like maybe we'll have to get used to doing without it.”

Sammy shook his head. “I just think maybe I'm going to be the one to find it. And think how happy Great-Gran will be.”

Sadness touched her father's eyes. “I guess she would be, at that.”

“So could we go on Saturday?” He rocked back and forth on his toes, all energy and stubbornness.

“I suppose—” she began.

“Maybe we can find some day other than this Saturday,” Tyler said.

Startled, she met his eyes and realized she'd just done what she'd promised herself she wouldn't do—she'd started to make a decision without consulting him. She'd have to unlearn the habits of the past eight years to make this work.

“Do you have something else planned for Saturday?” She hoped he could see the apology in her eyes.

“Actually, I was hoping you and Sammy would spend Saturday and Sunday in Charleston with me.”

“Charleston?” In all the days he'd gone off to the city, it had never occurred to her that he'd want them to go along.

Tyler looked from her to their son. “The manager of our Charleston subsidiary invited us to come and spend the weekend. He has a boy just about your age.” He touched Sammy lightly. “Sammy could stay with him and his sitter while we go with Dan and Sheila to a charity concert. It's to raise money for Habitat for Humanity.” He waited for Miranda's response.

She sat immobile for a moment. It was a good thing she hadn't blurted her first reaction, because that would have been a resounding no.

Part of the problem was that she knew exactly what benefit concert Tyler was talking about—a huge, expensive, dressy affair for the cream of Charleston society. People with whom Tyler would feel right at home. And she would feel about as welcome as a skunk at a picnic.

She couldn't say any of the things she was thinking in front of her father and Sammy. She summoned a smile. “Let me think about it, okay?”

Eyes questioning, he nodded.

She turned to Sammy, who didn't look thrilled at the idea, either. “Sugar, you have next Monday off
from school for a teacher in-service day. Why don't we plan to go then? We can take a picnic lunch, and we'll have all afternoon to do a good search.”

The pout that hovered on Sammy's face disappeared. “Can we build a fire and cook hot dogs on it?”

“I don't see why not.” The way to a growing boy's heart must be through his stomach.

“Okay. I'm going to tell Theo. I'll bet he'll wish the high school had a day off, too.” He darted inside, the screen door slamming.

Before she could muster a reasonable excuse for delaying an answer on the trip to Charleston, her father leaned forward, pressing his palms against the rocker's arms.

“I thought for sure that boy would forget about looking for the dolphin with all the other things that are going on.”

“He's certainly obsessed with it.” Tyler's gaze met hers, and she knew what he was thinking. He was afraid Sammy had a reason besides pleasing Gran for his search.

“The dolphin's brought us enough sorrow.” The lines deepened in her father's face. “I hate to see another generation get caught up in the trouble my brother and I caused.”

“It wasn't your fault,” she said quickly. “You didn't take the dolphin, Uncle Jeff did.”

“He took it, but I'm just as much to blame for what followed.”

“But—”

“Hush, Miranda. I mean what I say. I took that grievance against my brother and added it to all the other things I thought he'd done wrong. Told myself I'd bailed him out for the last time.”

“That's understandable.” She hated that Tyler was hearing this. “You were the one who was hurt.”

He shook his head. “I never really gave Jeff a chance after that. I judged him without even realizing I was doing it. And every time he did something I thought was wrong, I just added it to that scale I was making.”

“Daddy, it's not your fault that Uncle Jeff is the way he is.” He was expressing feelings she'd never guessed at, and doing it in front of Tyler, of all people. “Anyway, things are better between you now, aren't they?”

“Better.” He stood. “Maybe that's what helped me see that I'd done as much wrong in judging him as he'd ever done.” He smacked the bad leg he'd had ever since the night the dolphin vanished. “My attitude toward my brother hurt me as much as this leg ever did.”

She could feel the tears sparkle in her eyes, and she blinked them back. “I never knew you felt that way. I just thought—”

“You just thought your uncle Jeff was a man without honor, ‘cause that's what you've heard me say. But if Jeff was at fault, I was, too. Maybe if I'd stayed his friend and brother like I should have, I'd have helped him to be a man our momma and daddy would have been proud of.”

Before she could say anything else, he stalked into the house.

She wiped an errant tear away with her fingers.
Not speaking, Tyler got up from his chair and came to sit on the swing next to her. It rocked with his movement, then settled.

“All these years, and I never knew he felt that way,” she said softly.

Tyler stretched his arm along the swing behind her. It felt strong and secure.

“Your father's an honest man. Not many people would hold themselves to that standard of conduct.”

“No, they wouldn't.” Did she dare believe he admired her father's character?

“About the dolphin.” He hesitated, frowning. “We probably ought to talk about this. About what's behind Sammy's determination to find it.”

Was Sammy hoping the dolphin could bring his parents together again? She'd wrestled with it, and she didn't have an answer.

If that was what Sammy wanted, he would think the dolphin was already working if he saw them sitting so close to each other.

She tried to discern Tyler's expression in the dusk. How awkward he must find this situation. It would be even more awkward if he knew what her heart was telling her.

“Maybe we ought to talk to him about the whole thing,” she said.

“That's what I thought at first,” he said slowly. An expression she couldn't identify crossed his face. “Now I'm thinking that might be a mistake.”

“But if he's imagining we're going to get back together if he finds the dolphin—”

“What if he's not thinking anything of the kind? What if this is a complication we've imagined that's never even occurred to him?”

She stared at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “If we bring it up, he'll certainly think about it then.”

“Exactly. We might be starting a problem instead of solving it.”

“So what do you suggest we do about it?” She looked at him, troubled.

“Let's not say anything for the moment.”

His hand rested lightly on her shoulder, and she could feel the weight of his arm across her back. She let herself imagine he was sending out messages of protection and caring.

“If that is what he's thinking, maybe he'll bring it up himself when we go back to the cottage,” he went on. “If not, well, we'll have to deal with it once he's convinced the dolphin is gone for good.”

She wanted to argue, but she hesitated. She'd promised herself she'd share responsibility for decisions involving Sammy. Now she had a chance to prove she meant it.

“All right,” she said reluctantly. “We'll do it your way.”

I
f someone had told him three weeks ago he'd be driving a rattletrap van down a Georgia back road to buy a bicycle for his son's birthday, he'd have thought that person was hallucinating. Tyler stretched, pressing his hands against the steering wheel.

“This thing isn't exactly built for comfort, is it?”

Miranda smiled, as if at some level she enjoyed his fish-out-of-water discomfort. “We couldn't have fit the bike in your rental car very easily, could we?”

“Guess you have a point there.” At least he'd been able to convince her to let him drive. He gave her a sideways glance. Miranda looked less wary today, as if she might almost enjoy this trek with him to buy their son's birthday present.

She hadn't given him an answer yet on going to Charleston on the weekend. He sensed her reluctance without understanding it. With a little luck and
tact, on today's expedition he could prove to her that they could be in each other's company for two days without coming to blows, especially since Sammy would be with them.

“The shop is just ahead there.” Miranda pointed to a bright blue cement-block building.

Tyler pushed aside thoughts of the weekend. He'd better concentrate on getting into the bike shop parking lot without hitting any of the numerous potholes. Each one made the van shiver as if it had a bad case of the flu.

Miranda should have better transportation than this. He took a cautious look at that idea, surprised. It wasn't his business or his responsibility what Miranda drove. So where had that impulse come from to buy her a nice, safe vehicle?

She slipped out of the van without waiting for him to open the door and scurried to the shop. He followed, a little amused. She obviously intended to keep him from paying his share if she could.

That had to be a first in his adult life. Most people were only too ready to let the Winchester bank account foot any bill.

Not Miranda. All those years of raising Sammy without his support—how on earth had she managed? Her family had helped, obviously, but as far as he could tell, Clayton and Sallie were just getting by.

By the time he reached Miranda, the salesman was showing her a bright red bicycle, and she was reaching for her bag.

He caught her hand, stilling the movement. “Let's have a look first.”

For an instant she pulled against his grip. Then she stopped, maybe realizing how childish that was. She nodded toward the shiny bike. “What do you think of it?”

He surveyed the two-wheeler, wondering how many years it had been since he'd ridden one and what exactly they should look for in a bike for a just-turned-eight-year-old. “Are you sure the wider tires are what he wants?”

“That question proves you haven't ridden a bike on the island lately. You have to have wide tires to make it through the sand.” She grinned. “That's why old Mary Lou works so well. You could take back those disparaging remarks about her any time now.”

That lighthearted smile reminded him of the younger Miranda. “I'll have to take your word for it. I haven't done much bicycling lately. What about a helmet?”

The salesman jumped in immediately. “We have a nice selection of children's helmets right over here.”

Miranda hesitated. “I think there's an old one in the garage he could use.”

He saw into her mind so clearly. She was counting up how much money was in her bag, wondering if she had enough to pay for it.

“I'm getting the helmet, and anything else he needs to go with it.”

Her mouth was set. “I just agreed to let you go halves on the bike.”

“I have a lot of birthdays to make up for, remember?” he said softly. Her betraying flush told him the shot had gone home. He took her arm. “Let's go look at the helmets.”

He hadn't intended to remind her of that today, not when he was trying to persuade her to go to Charleston for the weekend. They followed the clerk past racks of bicycles. But he could be just as stubborn as she could, and he had a right to get his son whatever he wanted for his birthday.

The salesman, apparently sensing a customer who intended to spend money, got into the spirit of the thing. By the time they'd finished, they'd added not just the helmet but also a biking jersey, water bottle and cage and a pack that fit on the handlebars, just in case Sammy wanted to carry anything with him.

“Will that be all?” The salesman sounded hopeful.

Tyler looked at Miranda. “Sure you won't let me get a new bike for you?”

“My old one is fine.” Apparently deciding not to take offense, she let an impish twinkle appear in her eyes. It made her look like Sammy. “What about you? We ought to get a bike for you, so you can ride with Sammy.”

She was challenging him, he suspected, but if she thought she'd throw him off track, she was going to be disappointed.

“Good idea.” He looked at the salesman. “Let's see something for me.”

The salesman practically rubbed his hands together.

He had never known buying a bike could be so complicated. After measurements, consultations with another clerk and Miranda's insistence on a bike suitable for beach riding, they finally had him outfitted. He slapped his credit card on the counter before Miranda could reach for her wallet.

“Put it on this one.”

Miranda's jaw set, and she pulled a wallet from her overstuffed shoulder bag. “I'm paying my half.”

“Let this be on me.” He couldn't help trying to persuade her.

She held out the bills to him, arm stiff. “Take it.”

He tried to remember the last time a member of his family had repaid him for something. He couldn't, and he knew suddenly that he'd have been disappointed if Miranda had given in.

Besides, if he wanted her cooperation on the weekend trip, he'd better let her have her way.

“I'll take it, but only if you let me get lunch.”

“We don't have to stop for lunch.”

“Maybe we don't have to, but I'm hungry. Deal?”

She nodded, pushing the bills into his hand. “If that's what you want.”

They each wheeled a bike out to the van. He had to admit, as they loaded their purchases, that it was good they'd brought the van, no matter how decrepit it looked.

“Okay.” He slammed the door. “Where's a good place for lunch around here?”

“There are some fast-food places along the highway on the way home.”

He opened the door for her before she could grab the handle. “I might settle for fast food if Sammy were along, but I'd prefer something up a step or two.”

She smiled suddenly, as if deciding that she didn't have a choice so she might as well get into the spirit of it. “A couple of miles down the road there's a good seafood place.”

“Done.” He held her elbow while she climbed into the van. “I could eat a horse.”

 

A half-hour later, Tyler looked dubiously at the concoction of pink shrimp in creamy sauce atop a roll the waitress had just put down in front of him. “So this is a shrimp roll.”

“Hey, you said you didn't want a fast-food burger.” Miranda bit into her sandwich with every sign of pleasure. “Shrimp rolls and sweet potato fries aren't on most fast-food menus.”

He took a bite, nodded appreciatively and took another. At least Miranda had lost the mulish look she'd worn while insisting he take the money she offered.

He'd like to insist she accept all the support he'd missed out on the past eight years, but he was getting to know this grown-up version of the girl he'd married, and he knew she wouldn't accept. One step at a time, that was the way to get what he wanted.

Now if he could just be sure what that was, he'd be all right.

Miranda set her iced tea glass on the blue-and-white checked tablecloth. Sweet tea, she'd called it.
Another low-country thing, like shrimp rolls and sweet potato fries, he assumed.

“Did you manage to get things settled back at the office?” she said.

Are you going away? That was probably what she really wanted to ask him.

“I had a long conversation with Henry. He seems to think Josh is just nervous because he's not used to my being out of the office, especially when a big deal is pending.”

She paused, roll halfway to her mouth. “Do you trust Henry's opinions?”

That startled him. He wasn't sure Henry, the perfect subordinate,
had
opinions.

“I trust Henry to do what I've instructed him to do. I've gone over every step of the deal with him, and I see no reason anything should go wrong.”

“It's all right, then.”

“Yes.” He tried to ignore the niggling feeling of doubt. “I'll talk with both Henry and Josh every day. By next Thursday it'll be settled. The deal we're offering is a good one. The buyers won't get the quality of product we supply at a better price from anyone else.”

He glanced out the window at the marsh grasses bending in the breeze. What was he doing here when he had a deal pending? The Tyler Winchester he'd been a month ago wouldn't have been caught dead anywhere but in the office, personally supervising every step of the deal.

But that Tyler Winchester hadn't known he had a
child. Sammy changed things, and Tyler was still trying to understand how.

Which reminded him of the answer he wanted. “Have you made a decision about going to Charleston with me on Saturday?”

Her lashes swept down, hiding her eyes. “Why is it so important to you?”

He reached across the table to grasp her hands, making her look at him. “This is for Sammy. I want him to see that I have another existence besides that of visiting dad. That's a reasonable request, isn't it?”

She looked as if she'd like to say no. “I suppose so. But we wouldn't have to go to that benefit concert to show Sammy that. All of Charleston society will be there.”

“Is that what's bothering you?” Why hadn't he realized that? “You'll do fine. You'll probably be the prettiest woman there.”

“I won't fit in.” She looked startled that she'd said it to him. “That sounds silly to you, I guess, but it's true.”

He didn't understand the emotion that lay beneath her words, but it warned him to proceed carefully.

“Not silly,” he said, clasping her hands. “But it is surprising. I haven't seen you lacking any confidence in dealing with strangers. That's what you do all the time at the inn, after all.”

“That's different.” Her hands twisted in his, but she didn't seem aware of the convulsive movement. “The inn is home. Believe me, I have vivid memories
of how I didn't fit in when we were married. It's not an experience I'd care to repeat.”

It was the first time she'd spoken willingly of their marriage. He forced his mind to the couple of months that had changed both of their lives.

“I'm sorry,” he said slowly. “Maybe I was oblivious, but I didn't realize the social side of things bothered you that much.”

“I was eighteen.” She yanked her hands free, anger flaring in her eyes. “I'd never been farther from home than Savannah. Of course it bothered me. I felt like a failure the whole time I was in Baltimore.”

“Miranda—” She obviously had painful memories he hadn't even guessed at. “I didn't realize. I'm sorry I was so blind to what you felt.”

Her brief flash of anger went out. “Forget it.”

He didn't want to forget. He wanted to explain it in some way that would get both of them off the hook.

“My father's death pitched both of us into something we weren't ready for.”

She tried an unconvincing smile. “There's no point in going over something that happened a lifetime ago. We were different people then.”

“That's my point. You're not eighteen now. You have enough poise and maturity to run the inn and raise our son. You can take on a few of my business associates, can't you?”

Her smile turned a bit more genuine. “You sound like Gran.”

That seemed highly unlikely. “What did your grandmother say?”

“That I was a Caldwell woman, and they're not afraid of anything. They took on the island and tamed it back when it was the wild frontier.” She gave a little laugh. “I told her I'd rather tackle an alligator than a society party, and she said that was the point. That the thing I feared was my frontier.”

“Your grandmother's a wise woman.”

“She is.” Miranda's gaze swept up to touch his face. “I don't want to disappoint her. So I guess I'll be going on Saturday.”

His fingers closed over hers again. “I'm glad.”

He felt unreasonably exhilarated at having gotten his way. But if Miranda was this skittish about a weekend in Charleston, what would she say if he broached the subject that had been hovering in the back of his mind for the past day or two?

What would Miranda say if he told her he thought the best way of taking care of Sammy was for them to get married again?

 

Tyler should look as out of place as a duck at a wedding, and instead he looked perfectly at ease as he guided her cousin Matt's blindfolded youngest toward the piñata they'd hung from the dining room archway.

Well, she'd wanted him to be comfortable with the whole family here for Sammy's birthday party. She just hadn't expected him to find it that easy.

After their trip the day before to pick up the bicycle, they seemed to have moved to a different level of understanding. She was still trying to figure out what it was.

“You've got to give the man credit.” Her sister, Chloe, stopped pouring lemonade long enough to nod toward Tyler. “He's trying.”

“Tyler doesn't just try,” she said. He was holding the toddler up so she could get in a good swing with the plastic bat. “He stayed off the phone and away from the computer all day, he helped me decorate, he even gave Daddy a hand with the pork barbecue. He's being so perfect it makes me want to scream.”