Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish (32 page)

“You know, Matt has another job, being on television.” She was improvising, trying to come up with something that wouldn't hurt too much. “He might have to go away to do that job, but then you could see him on television. Wouldn't that be fun?”

Andi shook her head stubbornly. “Not as much fun as having him here every day.”

“No.” A dozen pictures flickered through her mind—working at the desk next to Matt; listening to his grandmother's stories with him; trudging through Savannah on the trail of the truth; standing close in the circle of his arms while a boat whistle blew a lonely accompaniment. “It won't be as much fun. But Matt might have to go away.”

Andi was still shaking her head. “No, Mommy, he won't go away. I know he won't. Know why?”

Sarah touched her cheek gently. “Tell me why, sweetheart.”

“'Cause he said he'd take me and Jenny riding again, that's why. He promised us. And Matt wouldn't ever break a promise.” She leaned back against the pillow, satisfied.

Pain was a vise around her heart. She'd not only let herself in for the hurt of losing Matt. She'd let the children in for it, too.

She stared out the window, watching the last rays of sunlight paint the sky. Where are you, Matt? What are you feeling?

She might not know where he was, but Someone did.
Father, forgive me. My silence hurt so many people. Please be with Matt now. Touch his heart and heal it. Amen.

T
he sun was setting when Matt pushed open the door to the church. He let it swing slowly closed behind him, not sure why he was here. He slid into a back pew, avoiding a sidelong look at the stained-glass window of Jesus and the children.

After he'd left the office, he'd saddled Eagle and ridden the beach until he and the horse were both exhausted. Eagle had been content once he was back in his quiet stall with his feed bag. Matt found he wasn't so easily satisfied.

Finally he'd started throwing things into a suitcase. Leave, get on the road again, find a place where the action would blank everything else out of his mind. That was all he could think. He had to go back to being his old, detached self.

Then he'd driven past the chapel and stopped the car, almost without intent. Here he was, trying to run away again. Maybe that had been excusable when he'd been eighteen and trying to escape his father's shadow. It wasn't excusable now.

He leaned forward, propping his wrists on the pew in front of him and leaning his head against his forearms. The silence in the chapel leached the tension from him, and for the first time in hours he was able to look past emotion and assess what had happened.

Sarah should have told you, something in his mind whispered righteously. She owed you the truth.

Truth. He'd never been able to take the elastic view of that some people did. But Sarah—She had to have been shaken and appalled when she'd found out what her late husband had done. Knowing Sarah, she'd probably felt guilty, too, that she hadn't somehow been able to prevent it.

He knew her now, knew her bone-deep, knew her warmth and her caring. When he'd been hurting over his father's actions, she'd reached out with unquestioning support.

Today she'd needed support, and he'd walked away. The realization shamed him.

You have to go on loving people, even when they disappoint you.
She'd said that. It was the way she lived her life. He admired that, but he wasn't sure he could do it.

He could leave. He could get in the car, drive to Savannah and hop on a plane to anywhere in the world. If his bosses weren't ready to let him come back, he could look for a job elsewhere—any job that would let him observe, report and, above all, not get involved.

He rubbed his face with his hands. He'd tried that. He'd come back here determined to do it. But Sarah and her kids hadn't let him. Their faces crowded his mind—Andi, determined and responsible; Ethan, needing a man to look up to; Jeffrey, wanting encouragement to be himself; little Amy, the unknown quantity with the engaging smile.

And Sarah. How could he walk away from Sarah's boundless love? But how could he stay and make himself responsible for their happiness?

The familiar image of the bombed-out mission pressed on him like a weight, until it felt as if his heart would burst.
Why, God? Why did You let that happen? Why?

He knew what some of his colleagues would say. That there was no God, that people were at the mercy of random fate. In a way, that might be a comfortable belief, because they didn't have to question. He didn't have that luxury.

Why?
He jerked upright, forcing himself to look at the window he'd avoided.
How could You let Your children be hurt?

The children clustered around Jesus, looking up at him. The final rays of the setting sun struck the window, making the pictured face glow with a love so pure and intense that it seemed to pierce his heart, cutting clear through, letting the pain spurt out.

Sarah's words came back to him, echoing in the stillness as if she were there, speaking them.
God isn't to blame for the bad things. People are. But God can bring good out of them, if we let Him.

His throat was tight with pain. Bad things, like the injured children, like his friend's death, like the guilt that had driven him home. He looked again at Jesus and the children, and the tears he'd tried so hard not to shed spilled over in a healing stream.

 

Sarah stared at the telephone on her desk the next morning. The paper had been out for two hours. Wasn't it time for reactions to start coming in? She'd expected the phone to be ringing off the hook with people canceling their subscriptions.

Not that she wanted that to happen. But anything would be better than this silence. Silence gave her too much time to think about Matt.

If she thought about him she couldn't avoid the pain. She pressed her fist to her chest. Why did this hurt so much? She'd known all along that nothing could come of their relationship. She should have been prepared. At the moment, that thought gave her no comfort.

Be with me, Lord. No matter what comes, let me feel Your presence.

The telephone rang. She took a deep breath, composed herself and picked it up. “
Caldwell Cove Gazette.
How may I help you?”

She'd prepared herself for canceled subscriptions. She hadn't been prepared for renewals. But in the next half hour, over a dozen people called to extend their subscriptions.

While she was still trying to figure that out, the door opened. Her heart clenched at the sight of the tall figure, but it wasn't Matt. Of course it wasn't Matt. Instead, his brother, Adam, came in with new copy for an ad for the boatyard.

He'd barely gone out when Tracy Milburn came in with an ad for the bakery, followed by Josh Tremain wanting to buy an ad for his tackle shop. By noon, she'd sold more ad space in one morning than she'd sold in the entire last month.

Somehow she wasn't surprised when Matt's grandmother trotted into the office, holding an ad for the upcoming church rummage sale. Her throat tight, Sarah held up the sheaf of orders.

“Are you responsible for this, Mrs. Caldwell?”

Naomi Caldwell pulled herself to her five-foot height. “Me? Why would you think that?”

Sarah blinked back an errant tear that had no place in a business office. “Seems as if everyone in Caldwell Cove wants to place an ad or renew a subscription today. I get the feeling someone might have put them up to it.”

Mrs. Caldwell shrugged, a twinkle in her sharp blue eyes. “Folks here appreciate courage. I reckon they wanted to show you that. After all, you're one of us.”

The tears did spill over, then. “My husband—”

“Nobody blames you for what your husband did,” Matt's gran said tartly.

Sarah shook her head. “I know there must be some who think I had to have known about it.”

“More fool they, then.” Naomi Caldwell patted her hand firmly. “Folks who know you know different. The others don't matter. You just remember that and hold your head up high.”

“I'll try.” Sarah managed a watery smile.

“And don't you shed tears over that fool grandson of mine. That boy's starting to find himself. He's just still got a way to go.” A shadow bisected the sunlight streaming through the door, and she glanced toward it. Her face softened. “Or maybe he's finally found his way home.”

She bustled out, giving Matt a pat on his shoulder as she passed him in the doorway. She closed the door, and Matt stood there, motionless, for a long moment.

Sarah couldn't speak. She wanted to, but she couldn't. She could only look at him, knowing her love must show plainly in her face.

He moved toward her at last, holding up a copy of the paper. “I saw the front page. Looks good. You must have worked until midnight.”

“Not quite that late.” If he wanted to keep this exchange on business, she'd have to try, no matter how much it hurt.

He came around the counter, dropping the paper on it. “You used my byline.”

“It was your story. I just wrote it up.”

“I understand the town council has already called an emergency meeting. Somehow I think Jason Sanders isn't going to get his way this time.”

It was no good—she couldn't try to pretend they were just coeditors, discussing a story that had gone well.

“Matt, I'm sorry. I should never have—”

“Don't, Sarah.” He put his hand across her lips, his touch gentle. “I understand why it was hard to tell me. What happened wasn't your fault.”

“I should have known,” she managed to say, her lips moving against his palm. “And I should have told you as soon as I found out. That was my mistake.”

He took her hands in both of his then, and his look was so intent that it seemed he saw right into her soul. “We both made mistakes. Maybe—” He smiled slightly. “Maybe we needed to, so that God could teach us something.”

Her heart seemed to swell. If this painful time had made Matt turn back to God, it would have been well worth it.

“What did you learn?” she asked softly, hardly daring to believe it.

“That truth isn't anything without love,” he said readily. “That I can find God's hand moving, even in the midst of pain.” His voice roughened. “You taught me that, Sarah. Without you, I'd never have healed.”

“You're okay now.” She tried to keep her voice steady, tried not to let her broken heart show. “You're ready to go back.”

“I could go back. But that doesn't seem as important as it once did.” He gestured toward the paper. “Seems as if I can find important stories to tell here.” He gripped her hands tightly. “Seems as if I can find someone to force me back into life here. Wouldn't I be a fool to let that end?”

All of his honest, valiant heart showed in the look he gave her. The intimacy and power of it robbed her of any ability to speak.

“Well, Sarah?” His voice had grown husky. “Will you let me be a father to your children? Will you let me be your husband?”

She still couldn't speak. Could she? Did she really have it in herself to be the person who loved him and was loved in return?

A sense of freedom swept over her. The past was gone. This was a new world for both of them. She stepped into his arms and knew that, like him, she'd found home.

“Matt!” The door to the apartment swung open, and Andi ran in. “See, Mommy, I told you he would come back.” She raced to him, the two boys scurrying after her.

Matt knelt, gathering them into a hug. Amy toddled proudly across the floor, testing her new skill, and he swept her up into his arms.

“Well, Sarah?” He looked at her, face alight with love and confidence. “You still haven't answered me.”

“Yes.” Her heart seemed to overflow with gratitude. “The answer is yes, for all of us.” She blinked back tears of joy. She'd made mistakes, but God had been faithful. He'd given her a man of integrity, a man she and her children could love and trust for all their days.

“C
an't I take the blindfold off yet?” Sarah gripped Matt's hand as he guided her up the steps.

He grinned, wondering where she thought they were. He hoped he'd covered his tracks well, but it was tough to fool Sarah.

“Not yet, Mrs. Caldwell.” He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice and failed. “I have a surprise for you.”

“I think two weeks in Hawaii for our honeymoon was enough of a surprise.”

“Didn't you enjoy it?” He pressed his cheek against hers.

“I loved it.” She reached up to caress the planes of his face, and he dropped a kiss on her fingertips. “But now I'm ready to be home.”

“Right.” They reached the porch, and he scooped Sarah off her feet and into his arms. “Your wish is granted.” He took several steps forward, across the threshold, and set her on her feet.

“Matt, what's going on?”

He fumbled with the blindfold, and it fell away. “You're home.”

Miz Becky, who'd been holding the children back, let them go, and they rushed, giggling, into her arms. She knelt, clutching them close. He suspected she didn't see anything else.

“See, Mommy, see?” Andi broke free first, hopping on one foot and then the other. “See? It's our new house. Isn't it beautiful?” She darted to the tall Gullah woman who stood smiling near the doorway. “Miz Becky helped us fix it all up, and I have my own room with horses on the wallpaper.”

“Our house?”

Sarah turned slowly, and Matt realized he was holding his breath. He saw the moment she recognized where they were—in one of the new houses on the lane behind Twin Oaks. But it no longer stood empty. Sarah's furniture, supplemented with pieces from the big house, filled the living room, and her pictures were on the walls.

She was quiet for so long that uncertainty assailed him.

“If you don't like it—” he began.

“Like it?” she echoed. She looked at him, a smile trembling on her lips, tears filling her eyes, and he knew it was all right. “I don't just like it. I love it.” Her arms went around his waist, and she leaned into him. “I love it,” she repeated softly. “I love you.”

Andi danced back to them. “The whole family helped, Mommy. All the aunts and uncles and cousins. And Gran. And Grandfather Jeff.” Andi proudly enumerated all the relatives she'd inherited on her mother's marriage.

Their family. His family. He looked at his Sarah, surrounded by their children. “Are you sure you like it?”

“How could I not like it?” She leaned into his embrace. “It's our home.”

“Home.”
He repeated the word.

He'd come back to Caldwell Island hoping to regain his detachment, thinking that was what he wanted. But instead God had given him what he needed—love and a home.

…in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him…
His heart overflowed with thanksgiving. Gran's promise for him had finally come true.