Five Days in Skye: A Novel (25 page)

Why not? Why do you keep punishing yourself?

Wherever the thought came from, it raised gooseflesh on her arms.

Because it was my fault. Because Mom would have been ashamed of me, letting power and money seduce me into doing things I knew were wrong. If I hadn’t made bad choices, none of it would have happened. I could have a husband and family now.

I could have James.

She put her cereal bowl in the dishwasher and wandered toward the living room, which had been straightened up since last night. She bent to pick up a tiny doll and placed it on the end table. Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered playing with Emmy at the coffee table while James cooked. It was too easy to imagine a life like that for herself, even though it was impossible.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and headed for the basement stairs. She should at least check her email. When she reached the bottom, though, it wasn’t her laptop that drew her. It was the piano.

She strode across the carpeted room, seated herself at the bench, and pushed back the fall board. As she started her warm-up exercises, she realized it had been tuned recently. Were the kids taking piano lessons now? Or had Becky just had it tuned for her when they moved it to the basement? It would be just like her sister to do something so thoughtful when all Andrea had done was reject opportunities to come back to Ohio.

When she passed the point of warm and still kept playing scales, she knew she was just avoiding matters. Her feelings had a tendency to spill out into the music. She started with Schumann, but somehow the song morphed and changed into the melody with which she’d experimented the day she’d told James her story. The day she’d kissed him for the first time. The day she’d finally begun to admit her feelings for him.

Two days ago. How could it have only been two days?

She couldn’t think about that. Instead, she played. The music shifted, ebbed and flowed. It seemed to suggest the soft tempo of time on Skye, the lap of waves along the shore, the swift movements of clouds across the sky.

We’re all broken. We’re only human. Some wounds only God can mend.

She had rejected James’s words because they had hinted at something she couldn’t accept. But now …

She didn’t realize she was crying until the tears fell on the keyboard. She played until she couldn’t see the keys and then wrapped her arms around herself while choked sobs burst from her mouth.

Life should be more than just a catalog of business deals and signed contracts. She wanted to love and be loved. She wanted to be whole again.

She needed to believe there was something greater to hold onto.

“I’m sorry,” she prayed, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I lost my way. I’ve made so many mistakes. I’ve been chasing the wrong things, trying to prove I was worth something. Please … just … please …”

If she expected a rush of awareness or a light from heaven, she would have been disappointed. God’s presence flowed into her gently, filling the empty spaces that had lain barren for so long. It suffused her body like the quiet trill of birdsong, the lap of waves along the shore, the soft scatter of light along the water through the clouds overhead. She recognized those quiet moments of peace she had found in Skye, realized God had been with her there, bringing her to this moment. She braced her elbows on her knees and let her hair fall forward as the tears streamed down her face, taking with them the buried pain and loneliness of the past eight years.

When the tears finally subsided, she was free.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“I don’t know about this.” Andrea looked at herself doubtfully in the mirror. The red-and-white flowered sundress was the last thing she would have chosen for herself, but it was one of the few items from her sister’s closet that fit her. It seemed silly to shop for clothes when she would be returning to New York in few days. The past two weeks in Ohio had been a blessed escape from reality, but it was time to return home and make a decision about her future.

“You look beautiful,” Becky said.

“I look like June Cleaver.” Andrea didn’t really mind, though. Becky said she’d feel out of place wearing a suit in their casual church, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to throw on jeans in the house of God. She thrust her feet into her red Jimmy Choos and slipped on a white cardigan, also purloined from her sister’s closet.

“I’m glad you’re coming.” Becky slipped an arm around Andrea’s waist and leaned her head on her shoulder. “It will almost be like old times, when we used to go to church with Mom.”

“Almost,” Andrea said. “I wish she was still here. I miss her.”

They piled into two cars, Dan driving the kids in their SUV, Becky taking Andrea in the white sedan. As soon as they pulled onto the tree-lined street, Becky asked, “What are you going to do now?”

“I’ve been thinking I might go out on my own. My clients know what I can do. They’ll give me recommendations. I can be up and running in a few months.”

“So you’re really going back to New York?”

“For now.” She knew what Becky was thinking, but James hadn’t called since leaving the voice mail she’d deleted. She spent every evening with her cell phone in hand, his number on the dialer. She would run her fingers over the scarf he’d given her and allow herself to remember what it felt like to be in his arms, convinced she’d made a terrible mistake in leaving. Somehow, though, she couldn’t bring herself to push the call button. She’d forced him away, refused him in no uncertain terms. She wouldn’t blame him for never wanting to see her again. The measure of peace she had found amidst a life still in upheaval was too tenuous to risk.

She realized Becky was waiting for her to finish her answer, so she said, “I still like New York. I’ll have to sell my apartment, but I can find something affordable while I build my business. Brooklyn, maybe. Or New Jersey.”

Becky looked so horrified that Andrea laughed. “Or maybe upstate. I don’t know, Becky. I’ll see where the Lord takes me.”

Her sister reached across the console and rubbed her arm. “You realize I never thought I would hear those words come out of your mouth.”

“Me neither. I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time over the last few years.”

“Call it a reminder to continue praying. I never lost hope.”

“I know you didn’t. Thank you, Becks.” Andrea reached into her purse for her lipstick, but instead of the metal tube, her fingers touched the sharp edge of an envelope. Frowning, she drew it out.

The square of cream-colored vellum bore the thistle stamp of the Culloden Manor Hotel.

Blood whooshed in her ears. How could she have forgotten about this? She had gone through her purse countless times and had never seen the note, shoved forgotten into an inside pocket.

“What’s that?” Becky asked.

“Nothing.” Andrea quickly slipped it back into her purse with trembling hands, but she’d have had better luck ignoring a signal beacon now that she remembered it was there.

The community church lay on the edge of town, a white clapboard building with a spire that reminded Andrea of the country churches in every old movie she’d seen. Green lawn spread around it, and churchgoers already stood in clusters along the walkways and on the steps.

A sudden burst of panic overcame her as Becky parked next to her husband in the small lot. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Becky put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Andy. No one’s going to judge you. No one even cares about what happened back then, if they even remember.”

Andrea swallowed down the lump in her throat and gathered her courage before she climbed out of the car.

Becky and Dan each took one of the three-year-old twins—David and Hannah—from their car seats, leaving nine-year-old Casey to Andrea. She held the door open for the boy while he hopped down, and he slipped his hand into hers.

“Don’t be afraid, Aunt Andy,” he said. “Church is fun.”

“Am I that obvious?”

His smile made him look like small version of Dan. “Mom said your old church was mean to you. Everyone’s nice here. You’ll like them.”

“Well, how could I be afraid with that kind of reassurance?” Andrea squeezed Casey’s shoulder. “Why don’t you show me where we have to go.”

They made their way to the sanctuary in fits and starts, stopped by clusters of people that knew Becky’s family. Becky introduced Andrea as her sister, and no one showed anything but pure welcome as they shook her hand. Gradually, some of the tension eased from her shoulders.

“I’ll take the kids to Sunday school,” Dan said. “Why don’t you and Andrea find seats?”

Andrea smiled at Dan’s departing back as he led the twins away, Casey trailing behind. “You’ve got a good one there.”

“I absolutely do.” Becky walked her down the center aisle of the small church. She chose a pew near the back and slid in. Not long after, the rest of the seats began to fill. Dan reappeared and sat on the other side of Andrea. They were flanking her for protection, determined that no one do anything to scare her away. Or maybe they were just blocking the exits so she couldn’t make a run for it.

Andrea joined in the worship songs, but once the pastor took the pulpit, her mind began to wander to the envelope in her purse again. She drew her attention back to the sermon, which was based on the story of the prodigal son. She bowed her head and smiled. Of all the services she could have attended after coming back to her faith, it was a story of how God rejoiced when lost souls were restored to him. Becky reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly.

Then they were back on their feet, singing the closing song, and Becky slipped her arm around Andrea’s waist. “Thanks for coming, sis.”

“Thanks for bringing me.”

Their exit was just like their entrance. More people who knew Becky and Dan, more friendly introductions. When they finally made it to the walkway, Andrea slipped away from them and reached into her purse for the envelope.

Was she ready to see what it said? Her pulse raced, and fear spiked through her middle. She slid her finger beneath the seal and broke it with a crack.

“You’re a difficult woman to track down, Andrea Sullivan. Or should I say, Andrea da Silva?”

Andrea froze at the distinctly Scottish voice behind her. A chill rippled through her body. She shoved the note back into her purse and took a deep breath before she turned. James stood several steps behind her, his hands resting casually in his pockets and looking so handsome she momentarily forgot to breathe.

He walked toward her with the boyish grin that always made her knees go weak. “Do you know how many art deco movie houses there are in Ohio?”

“How many?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded breathless.

“Thirteen. And every single one of those towns now has a stoplight.” His blue eyes bored into hers, and for a minute, she forgot she was standing in a crowd of people. “But I did tell you I enjoyed a challenge.”

Before she could say anything, he looked past her, and his smile reappeared. “You must be Becky. I’m James.” He brushed past Andrea and took Becky’s hands, then kissed her on the cheek.

Andrea stared at Becky in amazement. “You knew?”

“He called a couple days ago,” she said sheepishly. “He wanted to make sure you were here before he flew in from London.”

“May I steal your sister for a little while?” James asked.

“Have her home before dark.” Becky beamed at Andrea, and she wondered how her sister had ever managed to keep the secret for the past few days.

James reached for her hand. “Take a walk with me?”

Andrea hesitated, but the minute her fingers intertwined with his, her world shifted with a satisfying finality, like the pieces of puzzle clicking into place. “A walk would be nice.”

She felt eyes on them as they walked hand in hand down the front path, but she was far too stunned by the presence of the man next to her to care what anyone thought. They moved down the street toward the park in silence until Andrea finally found her voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“You promised me a tour. Where else would I go for a spring holiday but Ohio?”

“Be serious.” Her pulse raced so frantically she thought she might faint onto the sidewalk.

“All right, seriously then.” James stopped abruptly and tugged her into his arms right there on the street, so close she could feel the pounding of his heart. “I’m here because I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you since you left. I’ve called myself every name I know for letting you go. I wasn’t looking for this, but now that I’ve met you, I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Jamie, I—”

“Don’t say anything. I know it’s fast. I know after all you’ve been through, you’re afraid of making a mistake, and the idea of being in the public eye is the last thing you want. If it bothers you so much, I just won’t renew my contract with the network. I don’t need the program. I’m busy enough with my restaurants and the hotel. And if I can’t convince you to come back to Scotland with me, then … I guess we’ll work something out.”

Andrea stared at him, stunned speechless. He was offering to give up his TV show for her, without any assurance of her love, without any plans for the future. “Why would you do that?”

He brushed the hair away from her face as he had done that night outside the door of her cottage. “Because now I know what’s important to me. I love you.”

She stared at him in amazement and waited for panic to rush in at the words. Instead, the glow of certainty flowed into her, warming her body like sunlight on a cold day. “I love you, too.”

Then his lips were on hers, sweet and warm and filled with the promise of the future. She twined her arms around his neck and held him close, not caring who saw them or what they thought. She had resisted this for so long, thinking herself unworthy of love, unworthy of forgiveness. And now all she’d ever wanted stretched out before her for the taking. She kissed him back with abandon, pouring every last bit of her joy into her touch, until her head spun and the only thing keeping her on her feet was his arms around her.

When they parted, James laughed, a low throaty sound in her ear. “If you keep kissing me like that, I won’t be able to get you to the altar soon enough.”

Andrea stiffened, alarm flaring in her head. “Jamie … I can’t. I love you, but I can’t marry you. Not yet. We need time to get to know each other first. Get used to being a couple. Just … make sure. Can you understand that?”

To her relief, he only smiled. “I think you better read the note then.”

She retrieved the envelope from her purse. Her hands quivered as she bent back the flap and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. Tears pooled in her eyes, but this time she didn’t try to wipe them away. A smile came to her lips as she read the single line on the page.

I love you, Andrea. I can wait.

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Five Days in Skye
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—Carla Laureano