03_The Unexpected Gift (16 page)

“Yeah.” But he wasn’t so sure about his heart.

When he hesitated, Morgan faltered, regretting her spontaneous action. “Would you rather dance with Kit?” she offered.

He shook his head as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t ever tell her I said this, but she has two left feet.”

“You may say the same about me by the time we’re finished,” Morgan warned him with a chuckle.

He twined his fingers with hers and shook his head. “Somehow I doubt that.”

As he led her to the dance floor, then turned to pull her into his arms, the orchestra struck up the classic melody of “Unforgettable.”

And as they began to sway to the rhythm, Morgan had only one word for the music, the moment, and the man: perfect.

Without a doubt, the event was unforgettable. It had been everything they’d hoped for. According to the tally at the April board meeting, the dinner alone had netted close to a quarter of a million dollars, and the auction was expected to bring in another sizeable chunk of money.

But this interlude in Grant’s arms was also unforgettable. With his hand resting on the small of her back, urging her closer to him, Morgan felt as though she was in heaven. She could smell the heady scent of his after-shave, and with a contented sigh, she moved closer and tucked her head into his shoulder.

The effect of their closeness also had a powerful impact on Grant. Morgan felt so good in his arms—and so right. He rested his cheek against her silky hair and inhaled, relishing the appealing fragrance, as she moved with an easy grace to the lovely strains of the timeless melody. Over the past several months, he’d learned that Morgan was an intriguing study in contrasts. She was strong, yet vulnerable. Beautiful, but not conceited. Talented, yet modest.

She was truly unforgettable.

When the music drew to a close, Grant stepped back and looked down at her luminous face. And for one brief, glorious instant before he managed to shutter his eyes, the sounds of the room faded and their hearts touched.

And as they turned away to take their seats, he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

The dance had ended.

But something else had begun.

G
rant reached up to loosen his tie and glanced over at Morgan, who was asleep in his truck. The dinner had run far later then either of them had expected, and though she’d tried to stay awake during the drive home, her eyelids had finally drifted closed. She’d been out for the past forty-five minutes. So Grant had had time to think about several things.

Like his feelings about his mother. Or, more accurately, his lack of feelings. In the past, the anger he’d nursed all these years had bubbled up every time he was in her presence. Tonight, there had been no anger. Nor had there been any at the funeral. While he might not agree with what she had done twenty-five years ago, he had finally accepted that it was history. And he’d gone on with his life. She was now just someone who popped in and out of his world every now and then. If anything, he felt sorry for her. Because of the path she had chosen, she’d missed out on a lot of the things that really mattered.

As for the dinner, it had been successful beyond his wildest hopes, leaving the camp financially secure for the foreseeable future. And for that he owed Jo a deep debt of gratitude. Without the stipulation in her will that had mandated Morgan’s involvement, he wasn’t sure that Good Shepherd would have survived even another season. Now, and for a long time to come, it would be able to continue the work that had helped so many young people.

But mostly Grant thought about Morgan. It wasn’t just her loveliness that attracted him. Over the past few months, he’d come to recognize her deeper beauty. She was an intelligent, kind, caring woman who, once committed to a cause or a project, gave her all, holding nothing back. She was also a survivor, a woman who was willing to admit her mistakes, learn from them, and move on. She’d demonstrated that resiliency during these past few months.

But the trauma had taken its toll.

Once more, he turned his head towards her. In repose, her face was relaxed, the tension hidden. But the faint lines at the corners of her eyes, which hadn’t been there in December, and the too-prominent bone structure of her face, which reminded him that she’d lost weight, spoke of stress and uncertainty and strain. Morgan’s life was still on hold, and major decisions about her future lay ahead. She lived with that unsettling pressure and anxiety every day.

Grant knew that one day soon, someone in the corporate world would recognize Morgan’s talents and try to lure her back into the rat race she’d been forced to leave. Based on her comments at the youth meeting, he didn’t think that kind of life appealed to her anymore. But he also knew that with the right offer, she could be tempted to return to her former high-stakes, fast-paced world. Unless she had a reason to stay in Seaside. A compelling reason.

A reason that he wasn’t yet ready to offer.

Despite Bill’s encouragement, and despite that incredible moment on the dance floor when his heart had connected with Morgan’s, it just felt too soon.

Grant turned into the driveway of Serenity Point, sure that the jostling of the truck on the uneven lane and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires would awaken Morgan. But she continued to sleep soundly, even as he pulled to a stop and turned off the engine. The opportunity to drink in her beauty unobserved was so rare that he indulged himself. He noted how the moonlight turned her skin luminous, admired the graceful sweep of her lashes against her cheeks, marveled at the delicate line of her jaw, let his gaze linger on her soft lips. And in spite of his resolve to keep his distance, the urge to gather her close in his arms was compelling.

Morgan opened her eyes just then, and whatever she saw in his made her own grow wide. As surprise softened to welcome, Grant’s mouth went dry.

With superhuman effort, he turned away and fumbled for the handle of his door. “Sit tight. I’ll come around,” he mumbled.

Taking his time, Grant circled the truck, drawing deep breaths of the chilly air, trying to clear his head—and trying to suppress the guilt that gnawed at him. Would Christine be hurt to know that he had such strong feelings for someone else so soon, he wondered? Or would she understand his loneliness, perhaps even encourage him to find a new love?

Grant didn’t know the answers to those questions. And Christine’s voice was silent. All he knew was that right now, despite a powerful yearning to touch the vibrant, desirable woman he’d spent the evening with, this didn’t feel right. No matter how much he wanted it. So he needed to say good-night and go home.

Resolving to make a fast exit, Grant reached up and opened Morgan’s door. In the dim overhead light, her face was in shadows—and unreadable. In silence, she swung her legs to the running board and made a move to stand. But her elegant, high-heeled sandals hadn’t been designed for stability on a ridged surface. She lost her footing, and his arms shot out to steady her. The next thing he knew, her hands were on his shoulders, and without even stopping to think, he reached for her waist and swung her to the ground.

And he didn’t let her go.

It had been a long time since Grant had held a woman in his arms. Almost three years. Three endless, lonely years. Three years of going to bed alone and waking up alone. While his family had done their best to fill the void, nothing could replace the joys offered by a wonderful, fulfilling marriage. And nothing made up for the tender touch of someone with whom you were in love.

Grant didn’t think he was in love with Morgan. He couldn’t be. It was too soon. But the temptation to kiss her was strong. And the look in her wide, appealing eyes told him she was willing.

With an unsteady hand, he touched her face—and heard her sharp intake of breath. The moonlight shimmering on her face gave her an ethereal beauty that took his own breath away. Gently, he cupped her face with his hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs, delaying the inevitable as long as possible as he savored the intense sweetness of this moment. But at last, with a tenderness bordering on reverence, he lowered his lips to hers.

Grant wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted. When he finally pulled back—with reluctance—he kept his arms looped around her waist as he searched her face, noting that the dazed look in her eyes mirrored his own feelings.

In his heart, Grant knew that he shouldn’t have let things go so far tonight. And he didn’t want to create expectations he wasn’t prepared to follow up on. That would only hurt Morgan. And she didn’t need any more stress in her life.

“Morgan, I…I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Her eyes registered confusion, then hurt. With a sudden sharp movement, she stepped back, forcing him to drop his arms.

“Thanks for…for the ride,” she whispered. And without another word she turned and almost ran to the cottage. Before he could react, she fumbled for her key, inserted it in the lock and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her with a decisive click.

A muscle in Grant’s jaw twitched, and he closed his eyes, balling his hands into fists. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Morgan. Yet he’d done exactly that. All because he’d given in to temptation. And now the damage was done.

With a heavy heart, he turned toward his truck, glancing once more at the closed door of the cottage before he pulled out of the drive. He needed to make amends in some way. But he didn’t know how.

On the other side of the door, Morgan stood trembling, eyes closed, struggling to corral her chaotic emotions. When the crunch of gravel signaled Grant’s departure, she fought back a sob. She hadn’t expected him to kiss her tonight. She’d understood that propriety, and a wish to honor Christine’s memory, were serious obstacles to any relationship for him right now. So his kiss had been a surprise. One that had left her breathless. And hopeful.

Until his parting comment.

Grant was sorry he’d kissed her.

Which meant he wasn’t in the market for romance now. And maybe never would be. He’d simply succumbed to a moment of weakness in the moonlight. And it wasn’t going to happen again. That message had been clear.

Morgan drew a shaky breath. Why, when a man who appealed to her crossed her path, did his heart have to belong to another? And why did his lifestyle have to be so at odds with hers? Grant had made no secret of the fact that Maine was his home—and always would be. She had no idea where she might end up. But she didn’t think these rocky shores were her final destination. Even if he wanted her to stay. Even if he could put the past aside and move on. Two possibilities which seemed as remote as the distant stars she sometimes pondered in the midnight sky of rural Maine.

With a heavy heart, Morgan slipped out of her evening gown, marking the official end of the magical evening. And when she climbed into bed and scrunched her pillow under her head, her heart heavy and her soul weary, she did something she hadn’t done since her father died.

She cried herself to sleep.

Morgan dialed the phone, then lowered herself into a chair on Aunt Jo’s deck and raised her face to the warm May sun as she waited for Clare to answer so they could have their weekly chat.

When her sister’s voice came over the line, Morgan smiled. “You sound happy.”

“It’s a beautiful day here,” Clare replied. “How is it there?”

“Gorgeous. I’m enjoying the view of the sea as we speak.”

“Sounds great! How’s the job search going?”

“Nothing yet. But I’m keeping busy with local work.”

“Have you given any thought to staying?”

“A little.” Morgan focused her eyes on the distant lighthouse. “It’s kind of strange, Clare. When I lost my job in January, I thought my life was over. Instead, I ended up finding my life. The work I’m doing now is less stressful, and I have time for other things. Better yet, I got my priorities straightened out. I’ll never sacrifice my family or my faith again in pursuit of worldly success.”

“Then I’d say your time in Maine has been very worthwhile, no matter where you go from there.”

“I agree.”

“So have you and Grant worked out the disposition of the cottage?”

“No.” She hadn’t seen Grant since the fund-raiser ten days before. “We haven’t even talked about it yet. But the six months is up at the end of the month, so we’re going to need to discuss it soon. What are your plans after your nanny gig is over?”

“I’m not sure.”

“A.J. told me the same thing. I guess we’re all in the same boat. Would you consider staying in North Carolina?”

There was a telling moment of silence. “If the right offer came along,” Clare replied.

That was the closest Clare had come to admitting that she’d fallen in love with her young charge’s father. And it gave Morgan the opening she needed to discuss her own situation. “I kind of feel the same way,” Morgan admitted.

For years Morgan hadn’t shared much of her personal life with her sisters, and she knew Clare didn’t want to appear nosy. So when Clare broached the question Morgan was waiting for, her voice was cautious. “Have you by any chance fallen in love with Grant?”

“As a matter of fact…yes.”

“But Morgan—that’s wonderful!”

“It’s also complicated.”

“How?”

“For one thing, a commitment to him would be a lifetime commitment to Seaside. He’s made it very clear that this is his home and it always will be.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Believe it or not, no. I like it here. And I can still work in my field. It’s just not the life I envisioned.”

“Maybe it’s a better one.”

“True. But that’s not the major hurdle. Grant was very much in love with his wife. I think his heart still belongs to her. And I’m afraid maybe it always will.”

“‘Always’ is a long time, Morgan. He’s been through a rough three years, from everything you’ve told me. And she’s only been gone a few weeks. He may just need some time.”

“Yeah. I keep telling myself that. But patience has never been my strong suit.”

“Well, I don’t think it would be wise to rush this situation. Why not put it in the Lord’s hands? And pray. That always helps.”

“Trust me, I’ve been doing that.”

“Then He’ll answer. In His own time.”

In her heart, Morgan believed that.

She just wished He’d hurry up.

Grant sat back on his heels, bone weary, and ran a hand down his face. The task he’d set for himself today had drained him. But it had been time. For all of the years Christine had been in a coma, he’d left her clothing and personal items untouched in the bedroom, as if awaiting her return. Even though she’d been gone for more than four months now, he hadn’t found the courage to take this last step. There was such finality about disposing of the things that had belonged to someone you loved. But since today was their anniversary, thoughts of her were on his mind, anyway. And somehow it had seemed an appropriate time to touch once more the things that had been part of her. To remember. To grieve one last time. And finally to close the door on the past.

He surveyed the boxes scattered around the room and on the bed. Most were full. He’d already been through the closet, and he was now down to the last drawer. Soon he would be finished, though that thought gave him little comfort.

As he’d gone through her clothing, folding each item with care before placing it in the box for charity, he’d wished she could return, for just a moment, to tell him in her gentle voice that it was time for him to bring to a close the chapter of his life they’d shared and to start a new one. But her voice was as silent as it had been for three long years. So he would have to listen to his heart and make the decision for himself, trusting that she would understand and approve.

The last drawer was filled with sweaters and he removed them one by one, until only a pink angora sweater remained—one of her favorites, he recalled with a pang. He reached for it with an aching heart, and as he withdrew the soft, wool garment, Christine’s sweet fragrance enveloped him. He lifted the sweater to his face and inhaled deeply as a rush of memories spilled over him, constricting his throat with emotion as he struggled to contain the hot tears that stung the back of his eyes. For several seconds he held it to his face. Then he gently laid it in the box and closed the lid.