Heart of the Country (2 page)

2

T
HERE IS CERTAIN PROTOCOL
when introducing an outsider into the Carraday family. And it does not include bringing a stranger as of sixty-two days ago to the family compound, as I like to refer to it.

I watched Faith’s expression as we pulled into the long drive that led to my childhood summer home in the Hamptons. Her mouth opened as she gazed upward through the tinted window of the sedan.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

“A little, yes.”

I wanted to put a hand on hers, but I didn’t want her to feel my own hand shaking. Yet even as I trembled at the
idea of what I was doing, I felt reassured. I knew they’d like Faith. She was easygoing, down to earth, and a way better conversationalist than any of the other girls I’d dated. I use the word
dated
lightly.

She wore a simple yellow sundress and a light-blue sweater, like she was sunlight drenched in clear sky. Ward pulled the car into the circular drive, and she let out a long, determined sigh, then smiled to reassure me she would be fine. I touched her shoulder, brushed her long hair away from her face.

“Just be yourself,” I said.

“Who else would I be?” She grinned.

I’d prepared her little for what she would encounter. Faith was likable and genuinely liked other people. I figured she could hold her own with Dad. He really wasn’t the one I was worried about.

Ward opened her door and helped her out. We both stood for a moment, adjusting our clothes and our nerves. I took her hand and we walked up the white concrete stairs that led to the front door.

Faith gazed up at it. “This kind of door makes you believe in giants.”

“Obnoxious, isn’t it?”

The door opened swiftly, before we even knocked, as I knew it would. Winston stood in his tailored suit, his warm eyes outdone only by his pearly teeth emerging. “Hello, Luke! It has been a long time since you’ve been here.”

Christmas, to be exact. “Hi, Winston. This is Faith.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Winston said, graciously shaking her hand. They endeared themselves to each other almost immediately. I had a good feeling about this day already.

“Your father and Jake are on the terrace,” Winston said. “I presume you remember your way there?” His eyes gleamed with a bit of mischievousness.

“We’ll manage,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. I guided Faith straight to the back of the twenty-thousand-square-foot estate. I knew this would be a shock to her. She’d only seen my apartment, modest by Carraday standards. I tried to play it off as we walked. “Just a little house on a tiny piece of land,” I said, squeezing her hand.

“Funny,” she said. Her lips trembled as she smiled. “This is . . .”

“Outrageously over the top?”

“Beautiful,” she finished.

I pointed out the back window. “There they are. Trading business war stories over bourbon and Coke, I imagine.”

Faith stepped closer to the window and looked out, but I noticed she was staring at the ocean instead. “Breathtaking. How can anyone not believe in a God?” she whispered.

“I suppose only if they believe they are God. And on that note, allow me to introduce you to my family.” I opened the back door for her. It was a long walk to the terrace that overlooked the pool, that overlooked the gardens, that overlooked the cliffs, that overlooked the ocean. We were close before Jake finally turned around, though I suspected he knew we were coming long before that.

Dad got to his feet. “You must be Faith,” he said, extending a hand and shaking hers with the mannerisms of a stoic gentleman.

Jake’s cigar choked out all the clean air. Faith had lived in New York for three years, but she still had the lungs of a country girl, and she started coughing a little, trying her best to hold it in. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

“This is Jake,” I said after Jake failed to speak.

At the mention of his own name, he took interest. He didn’t bother to stand, but he shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“You too,” Faith said.

“We were just discussing some business matters,” Jake said, turning his chair back to his view of the ocean. “I don’t know where Candace is. Somewhere in the house.”

This was Jake’s way of saying that Faith should go find a woman to talk to, but I took her hand and pulled out a chair for her at the table. I saw Jake glance to Dad with his displeasure, but I didn’t care. I wanted them to know this girl.

“So, Faith, why don’t you tell us about yourself,” Jake said, leaning back in his chair like there was nothing he cared about less.

“She went to Juilliard,” I said.

Jake eyed me. “Surely she can speak for herself.”

I put my hand on her back. “I’m sorry. I’m just kind of in awe of your singing talent.”

“What degree did you graduate with?” Dad asked.

“I, um . . . I haven’t graduated. I took some time off.”

“Oh, I see.”

Glad that was out of the way. A college degree or four was like a badge of honor in my family, but I knew soon enough they’d see how smart she was anyway.

“You must’ve dropped out to pursue some other sort of business venture,” Jake said, taking a long sip of his drink while keeping his eyes glued to her. “So what is it that you do?”

“I’m hired by companies to showcase their new products. Chanel, in particular.”

Jake slowly lowered his glass to the table, staring at me, then at her. “You’re telling me you’re a Chanel girl?”

“I’m hoping to be promoted to Chanel woman soon,” Faith said wryly. She always had such a good sense of humor about what she did. She joked that if paisley came back into style, she was done. So for our third date, I gave her a small gift wrapped in paisley paper, and she laughed for a good ten minutes about that one.

Jake suddenly stood. “Dad, you want a refill?”

“Sure,” he said, handing his glass over.

“Luke, why don’t you help me get you and the lady something.”

“Faith.”

“Right. Faith.”

I stood, followed Jake into the house after glancing at Faith. She looked strong and perfectly capable of handling Austin Carraday. It was time for me to handle Jake.

Inside, Winston asked if he could assist, but Jake declined and went straight to the bar.

“What’s she having?”

“We’ll just have some orange juice,” I said, going to the small fridge behind the bar. I grabbed two glasses.

“So where did you meet this Faith . . . what’s her last name?”

“Barnett. And it was at that stupid retro fund-raising party. You remember the one?”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I smiled. “I saw her at the bar. She looked like I felt.”

“Not sure how to read that,” Jake quipped, pouring the Coke. “But nevertheless, that was only, what, two months ago?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve known her for eight weeks.”

“Looks like it.” I braced myself. I could tell by the way he was emphasizing every syllable that things were starting to get dicey.

“And you brought her here. To the family compound? We don’t just bring anyone here, Luke.”

“Exactly. She’s not just anyone.”

“She’s not just anyone?” Jake smirked. “How many Chanel girls do you think are in this city? They’re a dime a dozen.”

“She’s different.”

“Different how? She dropped out of Juilliard. That might
be your first red flag. She wants to meet your family after eight
 
—”

“That was my idea. Meeting the family.”

“She’s pretty. I’ll give you that,” Jake said, mixing the drinks. “But pretty isn’t something you’ve ever got to worry about, little brother. In our world they’re all pretty. But pretty can be deceiving.”

“I know. Believe me.” I finished pouring the orange juice and angled myself where I could see his face better. “Jake, I know I’ve made my mistakes with women in the past. In fact, meeting Faith made me realize how many I’ve made.” I paused as I watched him ponder. “How did you know Candace was the one?”

“First of all, we were on equal ground. Candace’s family has wealth dating back a century, so I knew she didn’t want me for my money.”

I sighed. “Faith is different. If I were a bum on the street, she’d still like me for me.”

“If she likes bums on the street, I’m going to have to wonder about her judgment.”

“Come on. You know what I mean.”

Jake turned to me. “You can’t possibly know someone’s intentions in eight weeks.”

“We have a connection that tells me otherwise.”

“A connection. What are we, in middle school? Haven’t you lived out in the world long enough to know how fleeting emotions can be?”

From where I stood, I could see Faith. She was smiling and talking with Dad, her mannerisms relaxed.

“Why can’t you give her a chance?”

“Because the Carradays don’t ride on chance. The stakes are too high.”

I stared at him. “This is your whole life, isn’t it? The estate. The business. The family name.”

“And you’re always willing to risk it, aren’t you?”

“Look at Dad out there, Jake. I know what he’s built. I know his deep appreciation for the dollar. But is he happy?”

“I don’t know if he’s happy. But he doesn’t have to worry about where his next paycheck is coming from, and neither of us should ever take that for granted.”

“I don’t take it for granted. I just can’t let it define me. I can’t look at that girl out there and say that she’s too much of a risk because she hasn’t quite found her way like we have. And truth be told, Jake, we didn’t find our way. We were given it.”

Jake and I watched them for a moment before he started to the door. “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. I worry about you, Luke. I have since the day you were born. You’re the dreamer of the family. You get that from Mom. And you can see where that took her.”

“Leave Mom out of it.”

“I don’t have to. She took herself out of it a long time ago.” He pushed open the back door and I watched him walk the steps toward the patio. The ocean was calm, sparkling, boasting the sailboats that glided through her waters.

I hurried after, not trusting Jake in close proximity to Faith for a second.

Faith had Dad laughing. That was a good sign. They were talking about horses. I knew Faith had grown up on a farm. And Dad had owned Arabians for a while. Faith was good at finding what connected people.

Dad got into business pretty quickly, like usual. And Jake had to pipe in with all his knowledge about what we did. I just let them talk. I wasn’t interested in it right now. I was interested in the beauty before me, whose soft hair was being blown back by the ocean breeze.

I was so engrossed in watching her that I didn’t realize Jake had changed the subject . . . to all the former women in my life. “Remember Leslie, Dad? I was certain that woman was going to end up on the front page of some major newspaper, and not for the right reasons.”

I shot Jake a harsh look and he threw his hands up.

“Bro, only joking, okay? Settle down. Faith here doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who is going to be scared off by a few flakes from your past.”

He always did that. Put me in a position where no matter how I answered, I sounded like a jerk. I stood suddenly, taking even Faith off guard. “Faith,” I said, helping her to her feet, “I want to show you the beach. It’s amazing. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk to get down there.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Faith said.

I guided her by the small of her back toward the steps
that led to the gardens, which would then lead us to the path to the ocean.

Jake snorted, then made some comment about the upcoming hurricane season to Dad.

Faith leaned into me. “I think the hurricane might be sitting right at the table,” she said with a wink.

I laughed. That’s what I loved about Faith. She could see through all the muck.

“I’m sorry about Jake. He can be that way sometimes. Overbearing.”

“Maybe just protective of you.” She put her face into the wind as we walked, taking in the gardens and then the cliffs. “I can’t imagine waking up to this every morning,” she said as I helped her down the stone pathway.

“The truth is, you take it for granted.”

“Human nature, I guess.”

We got to the beach and both tore off our shoes. We walked quietly along the water’s edge. I’d been amazed in the first week I met her how comfortable she was with silence. She sometimes seemed to crave it. In turn, it calmed me.

There is something about being at the edge of the vast ocean that causes an instant examination of one’s life. I felt completely in the moment as we walked side by side, but at the same time it was as if glimpses of my future rolled in with the tide. She was in every wave.

I stopped her, turned her to face me. She smiled and I wasn’t sure I’d seen anyone look at me with that kind of . . .
what was the word? Delight? Her eyes sparkled against the high afternoon sun.

I swept the hair out of her face and took her hands in mine. Then I knelt. My knee sank into the wet sand.

The sparkle of her eyes vanished, replaced by shock. “What . . . are you doing?”

“I’ve been raised to never make an impulsive decision, so you need to understand that in no way is this impulsive.” I pulled out the ring from my pocket and held it up to her. I felt energy tremble through her fingertips. “Faith, there are many things in life that require time and thought, and marriage is one of them. But I’ve thought so much of you and about you since the hour we met
 
—enough to fill weeks if not months
 
—that I believe this is a well-thought-out question. Will you marry me?”

“Luke . . .” She fell to her knees so we were face to face. She cupped my hand in hers and we both stared at the ring, a simple, elegant solitaire that glinted dynamically against the light. Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to speak several times but nothing came out except three or four half words I couldn’t decipher.

I wanted to beg. Badly. But I figured I was taking a big enough risk by asking her to marry me two months after we’d met. So I waited.

She made me wait, glancing out at the ocean like it was going to confirm some gut feeling she had.