Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish (10 page)

“Emily was…” He paused, mouth softening a little. “She was different from anyone I'd ever known, or Jeff had known, for that matter. Seemed like she had everything, but she loved it here, loved the island, especially loved Chloe's dolphin in the chapel. Said she'd like to take it home with her, to remind her of that summer.”

“You didn't.” Chloe's voice rang with absolute certainty.

“No, sugar, I didn't take the dolphin. I wouldn't.” His jaw hardened. “There was a party one night, toward the end of summer, out on Angel Isle. Emily went with me. Jeff was there a while, then gone, but I didn't miss him. I had Emily. Then Emily's daddy showed up with some of his friends.”

“What happened?” Theo's face was white. Maybe he knew the answer, too.

“Pushed me around pretty good. I fell.” He patted his leg. “That's how I got this stiff leg. Broke in a couple of places, and it never did heal right.” He shrugged. “I never saw Emily again. And the next day the dolphin was missing.”

Chloe sounded shocked. “I never knew that was when you hurt your leg. But Uncle Jefferson wouldn't have taken the dolphin, would he?”

Her father looked tired. “I didn't want to think so, either, but the dolphin was gone. And I know it was Jefferson who told her father about Emily and me. He'd do anything to get on the good side of those people. Anything.” He touched his leg again. “Never, ever said he was sorry.”

Chloe slipped out of his grasp, going to put a comforting hand on her father's arm. “Did you ever talk to him about it?”

Clayton shoved himself away from the post. “I spent my life covering up for things Jeff did, even taking the blame when I had to. I was the older one—I figured it was my job. But that night was the last straw. Jefferson picked his life for himself. He'd say he's got it all—the business, the big house. What I think doesn't matter to him.”

“But, Daddy—”

“Leave it, Chloe-girl.” He shook his head. “Point is, nothing good has ever come to this family from that yacht club crowd. Look at your sister. If Miranda hadn't been working there, she never would have run off and married the wrong man.” He focused on Theo. “But it's your decision, boy. If you figure you're old enough to work there, then you must be old enough to handle it. I leave it up to you.”

Theo seemed to grow an inch or two. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Guess we'd best go tell your mother and Gran you're all right.” Clayton put his hand on his son's shoulder, and together they started up toward the house.

Luke stood with Chloe, watching them go, and his throat hurt with longing. Longing for—what? He'd never known a father. How could he feel homesick for something he'd never had?

He tried to shake off the feeling. “Looks like they're going to be all right.”

“Yes.” Chloe's voice was soft, and she leaned against him without prompting. “Thank you, Luke.”

He shouldn't be enjoying this so much. “For what? I didn't do anything.”

“You made Theo see, when I couldn't. You helped me bring him home—”

Her hair brushed his cheek as she tilted her head to look up at him. Something so intense that it frightened him shone in her eyes.

“You talked to him from your heart.”

“Most people would deny I even have one.”

Her smile trembled on the edge of tears. “Most people would be wrong. Most people haven't seen the Luke Hunter I've seen since we've been here on the island.”

It came to him then. He cared about her. He cared about Chloe Caldwell, with a longing that twisted his heart.

He'd told himself that she couldn't ever be right for him. That she couldn't be the woman he needed by his side to get where he wanted to go.

Now he looked at the truth, and it didn't give him any comfort. The truth was, he wasn't the right man for her. He knew without asking what kind of man Chloe Caldwell needed—a man who'd put faith and family before anything else.

He couldn't be that man. He never would be, and it hurt.

 

“Are you sure you don't mind picking up Miranda?” Chloe glanced at him from the passenger side of the rental car the next day, her expression a little wary.

“Of course not.” He heard the edge in his voice and wanted to bite his tongue. No wonder Chloe looked wary. He been acting like a bear with a sore paw all day. He had to put some distance between Chloe and himself. Those moments when he'd held her, kissed her—that had been a mistake. He knew that, even if she didn't.

He'd intended this trip to the county seat to be the moment he told her about Angel Isle and enlisted her help. It was past time. He couldn't keep pretending to be interested in all the other sites she pointed out, when he'd already given Dalton his enthusiastic endorsement of Angel Isle.

But somehow the moment had never seemed right, and the words remained unsaid. Maybe the truth was that he doubted his ability to get Chloe on his side over this.

She still looked at him doubtfully.

“It's fine.” He forced some warmth into his tone as he turned onto the main street of Beaufort. “Just give me directions.”

“Down another block or two, on the right.” She frowned. “Sorry the traffic is so bad. Beaufort's a visitor magnet this time of year.”

“I can see why.” Quaint shops and restaurants lined the waterfront; boats moved up and down the channel. Farther down the street he could see a row of graceful antebellum mansions, lawns abloom with azaleas. “What's the name of the place we're looking for?”

“Sonlight Center. Son with an
O.
It's a mission, really. Miranda volunteers there one day a week.”

“What kind of mission?” Something tightened inside him.

“Youth-oriented.” Chloe leaned forward, looking for the sign. “They run after-school programs. And in the summer they bring city kids out here, give them a taste of low-country life.” She turned toward him, silky hair swinging across her cheek, eyes serious. “You wouldn't believe the kind of lives some of those kids come from.”

Wouldn't I, Chloe?
Tension skittered along his nerves.
Wouldn't I?

Luckily Chloe spotted the place before he had to answer. “There. There's a parking space right in front.”

He pulled to the curb.

When he didn't turn off the engine, she raised her eyebrows.

“Don't you want to come in with me?”

No, he didn't. But he probably couldn't avoid it. He switched off the ignition with a sense of fatality. He was about to be reminded of things he'd rather forget.

And it was every bit as bad as he had thought it would be. No quick escape. Miranda insisted on showing them everything, from the cramped offices to the after-school tutoring sessions to the gym.

Sneakers squeaked on the polished floor, shouts echoed from the ceiling. A gang of boys elbowed one another for the ball. It bounced toward him, and he grabbed it automatically, then fed it back to the lean, gray-haired man whose whistle tangled with the cross around his neck.

“Thanks.” He gave them a friendly wave, then charged down the court.

“That's Pastor Mike.” Affection filled Miranda's voice. “He still thinks he's young enough to keep up with the boys.”

Like the Rev.
An emotion he didn't want to identify pooled in Luke's stomach. Guilt, was that what it was?

He kept the smile pinned to his face through sheer willpower. He'd been one of those kids once—edgy, angry, taking his aggression out on the basketball court instead of the street, because one man had cared enough to try to reach him.

He took a breath, trying to still the tumult inside him. He wasn't that boy now. He hadn't been for a long time.

Coming here had been a mistake. Coming to Chloe's island had been a mistake. The place and the people confused him. They reminded him of the past he wanted to forget, and at the same time made him long for a future he could never have.

“A
ll right, Chloe Elizabeth.” Miranda turned from the dishwasher where she was stacking the breakfast dishes the next morning. “Out with it. What's going on between you and your sweetheart?”

Chloe tried to keep her face impassive as she put down the coffeepot she'd just carried in from the dining room. “Nothing's going on. What do you mean?”

“Don't tell me that, sugar, ‘cause I don't believe it.” Miranda leaned back against the counter. “You haven't been gone long enough to learn how to fool me. I can tell something's wrong. Something's been wrong.”

“Nothing's wrong.”
Nothing except that when we were on Angel Isle looking for Theo, he kissed me as I'd never been kissed before. He made me feel as if he could love me. And then he turned it all off as if it had never been.

But she couldn't say any of that to Miranda, no matter how much she might long to confide in her sister. “Your imagination's working overtime.”

Miranda looked at her steadily. “I don't think so. That night you brought Theo home, you walked in here looking…transformed.” Her voice softened on the word, her face suddenly misty, as if remembering. “But yesterday Luke went off to Savannah by himself, and you've been moping around like all the sunshine went out of your life.”

Transformed.
The word echoed in her heart. Maybe she had been, for a short time, but it hadn't lasted. Luke had put a wall between them. And she couldn't even count on leaving in a few days, as she'd expected. He'd said the proposal for Dalton wasn't ready yet, and insisted they stay longer. Her family was too happy to have them home to probe her reasons.

“Miranda…” She wanted to say something that would put her sister off the track, but she couldn't, not when Miranda looked at her with truth and expectation in her green eyes. “I can't talk about it, okay? We just have to work it out ourselves.”
Or not.

Miranda's expression dissolved into sympathy, and she gave Chloe a quick hug. “Oh, honey, I'm sorry I poked my nose in. But if you want to talk, you know I'm here.”

“I know.” Chloe hugged her back, eyes filling with tears. She'd like nothing better than to confide in her sister, but the promise she hadn't wanted to make held her fast. “I will.”

“Well.” Miranda wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Enough of this foolishness. We've got to get the food packed up to take over to Gran's, or Mom will regret leaving us in charge of it.”

“Right. I just hope she's keeping Gran from doing too much. If anyone can, it's Mom.”

She busied herself putting ice in the cooler, relieved that the noise she was making meant she didn't have to talk.

The situation with Luke was too difficult to discuss. His withdrawal could mean only one thing—that he regretted what had happened between them.

She'd told herself that a hundred times over, but it still cut her heart into pieces. She frowned at the blueberry pies she was loading into the pie carrier. She didn't have a choice in the matter. Luke had made his decision clear without saying a word. Now all she could do was try to stay as detached as he did.

If she could. She took a deep breath. She had to. And that would make it much easier to tell him. Another little sliver of her heart seemed to break off. Like it or not, her mind was made up. Her days as Luke Hunter's right hand were numbered. She wasn't going back to Chicago with him.

“The way you're frowning, sugar, anyone would think you hated blueberry pies.”

Miranda's teasing drawl roused her, and she managed a smile.

“Just wondering if these will be enough. Putting the new roof on Gran's house is going to be hungry work.”

“I've been hiding a chocolate cake in the pantry,” Miranda said. “Is Luke going along today?”

Chloe's heart clenched. Luke had to have heard the rest of the family talking about the big workday to put the roof on, but he'd surely make an excuse.

“I think he has some work to do today.”

The words had barely left her mouth when she heard a clatter of feet in the hallway, announcing her brothers' arrival. “Don't get out of here without carrying something,” she called, only too aware of her brothers' propensity for getting out of anything they'd think of as “women's work.”

“Come on, Chloe.” Daniel pushed the door open. “We've got the tools to take. Can't you manage that?”

“You're going to eat, aren't you?” A glimpse of Luke over her brother's shoulder made her words tart. “You can help tote.”

Luke eased into the kitchen behind her brothers. “I'll be glad to carry the pies. That should give me first chance at them.”

“You…” Chloe looked up at him, and the rest of her question seemed to shrivel in the need just to see him, to store up enough memories to last her when he was gone.

“Luke's coming to help.” Daniel pounded Luke's shoulder in a friendly blow that should have staggered him.

Luke just smiled, apparently used to her brothers by this time. “I can't miss the chance to repay your grandmother for her hospitality. I'm glad to help.”

Miranda began loading them up with things to carry. In the inevitable bustle as they started out the door, Chloe caught Luke's arm.

His skin was warm under her fingers, and she snatched them away before she could give in to the longing to hold on to him.

“You don't have to do this,” she said in an undertone. “I'm sure you have work to do.”

“No.” His intent gaze stilled her protest. “There's nothing I'd rather do than this, Chloe. Are you ready?”

She had no choice but to follow him out the door, wondering how she'd possibly manage to keep her resolution to stay detached, when just a look from him was enough to put her fractured heart back together again.

 

By the time they reached Gran's, the rest of the clan had assembled. Her cousin Adam was already putting a ladder against the side of the house, while her mother and Gran set jugs of ice water and sweet tea on the picnic table. Her father and David conferred over a stack of shingles, while Uncle Jefferson hefted a toolbox from his truck.

Everyone had something to do. Even Sammy had been assigned to take water, nails, whatever was needed to the workers. Everyone had a part, she told herself, except Luke. He didn't belong here.

Did she? The thought popped into her mind so suddenly that it sent a wave of panic through her, making her feel the way she had when she'd been ten and caught in a riptide. Daddy had pulled her out that time, but he couldn't help now. She had to work this one out for herself.

“Are they talking?” Luke's baritone, soft in her ear, made her jump, then sent a tendril of warmth curling through her.

Stop it,
she ordered, not sure whether she was talking to herself or Luke. She followed the direction of Luke's nod and saw that the group around the shingles had been joined by Uncle Jefferson.

“I don't know. I wish…” She let that die, because there was no point in confiding in Luke—not anymore.

“I know.”

His voice was so soft it couldn't have reached any of the others, so close his breath stirred across her cheek. He enclosed her hand in his and squeezed it gently.

“I know what you wish, Chloe.”

“You really don't have to stay, you know,” she said in desperation. “You won't want to work up on the roof.”

“I won't?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Why not, Chloe? Do you think I'm afraid of heights, just because I'm afraid of the water? That's kind of insulting, isn't it?”

“I didn't mean that. You know I didn't.” Maybe if she pretended she was snapping at one of her brothers, this would go easier. “But I'm sure you've never done work like this before. It's hard.” Well, that sounded even more insulting. Maybe she should just keep quiet.

“And hot, and dirty. Especially ripping off the old shingles to get down to something solid.”

Her surprise had to show in her face. “You do know something about it.”

He shrugged, picking up a pair of work gloves from the picnic table. “I worked construction one summer. There's nothing here I haven't seen before—”

He stopped, looking at her with something in his eyes she couldn't interpret.

“Except maybe you, Chloe.”

He walked swiftly to the ladder, and a moment later was deep in conversation with her cousin.

She took a deep breath, hoping nothing was showing on her face to be noted and dissected by these people who knew her so well. What had he meant? Why had he even come today? It just made things more difficult.

She lifted the heavy picnic hamper. She had to stop thinking about him, about the possibility of a future that wasn't going to be. But each time she made a decision, Luke did something or said something to change it, leaving her caught once again on the painful edge between resignation and hope.

“Bring that hamper over here, Chloe Elizabeth.” Gran called to her from the kitchen doorway. “Let me see if anything needs to go in the icebox.”

Her grandmother had a refrigerator, but it would always be an “icebox” to her.

“The cold things are in the cooler, Gran.” Chloe obediently took the hamper into the kitchen. At least there she wouldn't have to see Luke. Maybe she could stop thinking about him.

“What's this I hear about your young man?” Cousin Phoebe lifted the hamper lid to peek into each bowl.

Chloe suppressed a sigh. “I don't know, Cousin Phoebe. What did you hear?”

Phoebe's nose twitched. “Elvira Thompson's girl saw him in Savannah yesterday. Wouldn't you like to know what he was doing?”

“He had some work to do there.” Work he hadn't asked her to share.

“Not unless he's working in a jewelry store,” Phoebe announced triumphantly. She leaned on a chair back, waiting for the exclamations sure to follow.

No one disappointed her. Gran, Miranda, Chloe's mother—all pressed around her. Chloe's heart sank. Whatever innocent purpose had taken Luke there was sure to be twisted out of all recognition.

“A jewelry store.” Gran savored the words. “She didn't happen to see what he bought, did she?”

Phoebe shook her head with an expression of regret. “She couldn't get close enough for that, but it was a small box. She saw him put it into his pocket.” Phoebe paused. “A ring-size box. Looks like our Chloe's going to get herself engaged.”

 

He had to stop doing that. Luke climbed the ladder Chloe's cousin held for him, only a fraction of his attention on the rungs. He had to stop letting things slip where Chloe was concerned.

How much had he shown Chloe in the past week that he hadn't shown anyone else in the past fifteen years? He didn't want to count.

From the day he'd started college, he'd set out to reinvent himself. Reverend Tom and his foundation had given him the means to do that, and he'd gone about it with iron determination. He would turn himself into one of them—one of those favored few who took achievement and power for granted. And a big piece of his plan had involved keeping where he'd come from a secret.

That had never been a problem, until now. The persona he'd adopted had become a second skin. Until Chloe and her family started peeling it away.

It had to stop. A momentary panic washed over him. No one back in Chicago knew the truth about his background. What if they found out?

“You okay?” Chloe's cousin balanced next to him on the roof edge.

“Fine.” Luke took the crowbar the other man held out. Adam, he reminded himself. This was the Caldwell who ran the shipyard. Tall, like all the Caldwell men, but with dark brown hair and a pair of steady gray eyes. “Let's get this done.”

He shoved the pry bar under a stretch of fraying shingles. They came up with a satisfying rip. He'd concentrate on what he was doing. He wouldn't think about Chloe, because if he did he'd have to look at the future, and for the first time in fifteen years he wasn't perfectly certain what it held.

The morning fell into a rhythm that gradually displaced the turmoil in his mind. Chloe had been right about one thing—this was the most physical work he'd done in a long time. Playing handball at the club might keep him in shape for the life he normally led, but it didn't strain the muscles like this.

He and Adam worked side by side along the stretch of roof, with David and Daniel working a few feet above them. The steady, repetitive movements were oddly soothing, as soothing as the soft Southern voices teasing each other with the ease of long familiarity.

“Is that all you boys have gotten done?” Chloe's voice came from the top of the ladder.

“Fine talk from someone's who's been down there lolling in the shade, drinking lemonade,” Daniel teased.