A Time to Forgive and Promise Forever (21 page)

“They'd never do anything to hurt me or Sammy.” She said it as if she expected an argument.

He had none to make. They loved her. They'd supported her and Sammy for the past eight years, when he hadn't been a part of their lives.

They didn't need him. Neither the woman he'd once loved nor the son he hadn't known about needed anything he had to offer.

 

Had Tyler believed her family? Miranda shoved the tip of the spade into the soft earth at the corner of the front porch the next morning, her mind far from the azaleas she meant to plant.

He'd said he did. She frowned at the sandy earth she'd turned. Her people hadn't sent Tyler the photo of Sammy. They wouldn't. Probably next he'd want to ask her sister, then her cousins, then anyone else he could think of.

Her thoughts touched on an army of Caldwell second cousins and courtesy aunts. Everyone knew who Sammy's father was, but they'd all known for her son's entire life. If they'd wanted to make trouble, they could have done it any time in the last eight years.

She leaned on the shovel for a moment, glancing past the crepe myrtles that edged the yard. Sammy was at the dock, spending his Saturday morning
helping David clean the boat. He could have been doing something with his father, but Tyler was upstairs in the room he'd turned into a branch office of Winchester Industries.

The really exasperating thing was the fluctuation of her feelings about that. One minute she wanted to pressure him into spending time with Sammy, the next she assured herself that it was better this way.

You're a mess, she told herself sternly. Decide what you want and stick to it.

That was certainly one of those things easier said than done.
Lord, maybe You'd better show me what I'm supposed to do in this situation, because I surely can't figure it out for myself.

The screen door banged, and she heard footsteps on the porch.

“Are you digging or daydreaming?” Tyler leaned on the porch rail.

“Digging.” She shoved the spade in and struck a root. “We had a lilac bush here, but it died, so I'm putting in some azaleas.” She nodded toward the pots behind her. “My brothers have been promising to dig the bed for me, but they always have something more important to do.”

Tyler came down from the porch as she spoke. Before she knew what he was about, he'd grasped the spade.

“What are you doing?” Her grip tightened.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Isn't that obvious? I'll do the digging for you.”

“I can do it myself.” Amazing how childish that sounded.

“I'm sure you can.” The look he gave her suggested the words meant more than the obvious. “I'd like to help you, however, and you wouldn't be so impolite as to refuse.”

She let go of the shovel and moved out of his way. “My momma taught me never to be rude.”

Tyler shoved the spade into the earth, striking the same root she'd hit.

“I guess I should have mentioned that the old roots from the lilac were still there.”

He maneuvered the blade underneath the root, prying it up. “Guess you might have.”

He'd left her with nothing to do, but she could hardly walk away. It would be better if she didn't stare quite so obviously at the movement of his muscles under the white knit shirt he wore.

She picked up one of the potted azaleas. “Looks like that hole's about ready for the first one.”

Tyler moved back to give her room, then knelt beside her to help slide the azalea from its pot into the hole. Together they pressed the earth around the plant.

“How long has it been since you've gotten your hands dirty like this?” She tamped the soil down with a trowel.

He shrugged, so close she felt the movement brush against her. “A while, I guess.”

It was too bad Sammy wasn't here to see his parents working together on something. That might
be better for him than constantly sensing their tension. But Sammy was off with his uncle because his father had had something more vital to do with his Saturday morning.

“Did you finish up whatever work was so important this morning?” She didn't mean her question to sound quite as condemning as she feared it did.

Tyler's expression told her he'd taken it that way. “I have a business to run, remember?”

“Don't you take Saturdays off?”

“Maybe, when I haven't spent Wednesday, Thursday and Friday on other things.”

“Important things.” Like your son, for instance.

He leaned on the shovel, studying her face for a moment. “Is it important for you to help your family run the inn?”

The question took her by surprise. “Yes, but…that's different.” It was, wasn't it? “That still leaves me plenty of time for Sammy. Besides, my family depends on me.”

“The people who work for Winchester Industries depend on me. I try not to let them down.”

That was probably true, though she couldn't help but believe his devotion to his position was more consuming than it had to be.

“Can't your brother take some of the load?” Josh had still been in school when she and Tyler were married, but she remembered it had been assumed he'd go into the company, too. That was what Winchesters did.

“Josh doesn't handle responsibility very well.”
Tyler began digging the second hole with unnecessary force.

She sat on her heels, watching him. “Doesn't he also work for the company?”

Tyler's face set. “If you call having a corner office with his name on the door working for the company, I suppose he does.”

“Don't tell me there's a Winchester who'd rather do something else.” She said the words lightly, but a chill touched her. Was Tyler thinking that now he had a son to fill the role Josh apparently didn't?

“Josh talks a good game.” He grabbed an azalea and shoved it into the hole. “But when I trusted him with something important to do, he let me down. I won't make the same mistake again.”

Tyler's expression was as impervious as granite. His brother had let him down, and he didn't forgive that.

Her chill intensified. Tyler didn't forgive. No matter how they managed to cooperate about Sammy, she'd best keep one thing in mind. Tyler would never forgive her for not telling him about their son.

T
yler tamped the earth around the last of the shrubs, then stretched. His back felt tight from the unexpected labor, but it was a good sensation. He hadn't done any physical work outside the gym for a long time.

“Is that it? Or are you hiding some more plants somewhere, just waiting for someone to come along and help you?”

“That's it.” Miranda sprinkled pine bark mulch around the bushes, then smiled at him. “Thanks, Tyler. I really didn't expect you to do this.”

“I know. You could have done it yourself.” He followed her to the hose. She sprayed sun-warmed water over his hands.

“I could have.” A note of defensiveness touched her words. “You didn't have to leave your work on my account.”

Was that a slap at him for working this morning instead of doing something with Sammy? He took
the hose from her, holding it so she could wash her hands. She hesitated for a moment, then thrust her hands under the spray. Small hands, but strong and capable, like the rest of her.

He frowned, trying to look honestly at his actions over the last few hours. What he'd said to Miranda was true—he did have work to do, and he didn't trust his brother to take over for him.

Unfortunately, a niggling conscience suggested that hadn't been the only reason he'd hurried to his room after breakfast. Had he been backing off from spending time with his son, avoiding a possibly awkward encounter with Sammy?

If so, he had to do something about that, and quickly. His only reason for being here was to build some sort of relationship with his son.

Miranda turned off the hose, coiling it against the latticework beneath the porch. She had to be wondering what was going on with him. Trouble was, he didn't know.

“Is Sammy still down at the dock?” he asked abruptly.

She nodded, a question in her eyes. “He's helping David clean the boat.”

“Maybe I'll see if he'd like to do something with me.” Like what? He hadn't a clue.

“I'll walk down with you.”

Miranda fell into step with him as he crossed the lawn, then the shell-covered path. Was she thinking he needed her intervention with Sammy?

Sunlight sparkled on the waterway between the
island and the mainland. A sailboat dipped and swayed in the wind as gracefully as a dancer. Gulls circled the mast, white against a sky that was bluer than it could ever be in the city.

The weathered wooden dock stretched into the water, lined with boats on either side. He stepped onto it, his gaze held by the sight of a small figure industriously polishing the chrome trim of a white catamaran. His son. A feeling he didn't recognize welled inside him.

“They're cleaning up the
Spyhop.
David uses her for the dolphin watch, and Daniel takes visitors out on her.”

“Sammy likes doing that?”

The wind ruffled Miranda's hair into her face and fluttered her oversize blue T-shirt. “He loves it.” Maternal pride blazed in her eyes. “He's turning into a real waterman, just like his grandfather and uncles.”

Not like his father, in other words. She seemed determined to turn the boy into a complete Caldwell with no trace of Winchester to be found. That bothered him more than he'd expected.

Miranda stopped level with the boat. “Hey, guys. You've got the
Spyhop
looking like new.”

“Not quite that.” David ran a paper towel over the windscreen. “But I'd say she's ready for the season. Sammy's been a big help.”

Sammy's gaze slanted off Tyler and landed on his mother. “I did all the polishing.”

Tyler seemed to feel an invisible push from Miranda, demanding that he respond. “Good job.”

“Thanks.” Sammy hesitated, as if on the verge of saying his name, then let it trail off.

Tyler braced himself against the railing, the rough wood warm under his hands. He had absolutely no reason to be nervous about this. If he could walk into a multinational corporation's boardroom as if he owned the world, he could surely invite a seven-year-old to spend some time with him.

“Sammy, I thought maybe you'd like to run into town with me.” He felt ridiculously like a teenager asking for a first date. “We could stop and get a hamburger for lunch if you want.”

For a moment no one moved or spoke. A gull squawked above them, and he sensed Miranda holding her breath. What was she wishing for?

His son squared his shoulders as if facing something unpleasant. “I already promised to go on a dolphin watch with my uncle. But thank you.”

Miranda's hand clenched on the railing next to his. “Sammy, you can go on the next trip. I'm sure Uncle David wouldn't mind.”

“That's right,” David began, but Sammy shook his head, his mouth setting stubbornly.

“We just got the boat ready. I want to go today.”

“Fine.” Tyler hoped that didn't sound as curt as he feared it did. “We'll do it another time.”

“Maybe you'd like to go along on the boat,” Miranda said quickly. “They have plenty of room.”

“No, thanks.”

Miranda meant well, but he had no desire to compete with David for Sammy's attention. He
stepped back, watching as Sammy loosed the lines that held the
Spyhop
to the dock. His son moved around the boat easily, as if advertising the fact that he was at home there.

The catamaran nosed slowly through the water away from them. Sammy hopped onto the seat next to his uncle, and David let him put his hands on the wheel as they steered into the current.

“Tyler, I'm sorry.”

Was she? “Leave it, Miranda. Sammy can do something with me another day.”

Everyone wants something from you. Here was one case where his father's prediction had been wrong. Miranda hadn't wanted anything from him but out. It appeared Sammy was felt exactly the same way.

 

She should be glad Tyler wasn't fitting in. Miranda had been telling herself that for the past hour, but if it were true, why did her heart ache for both Tyler and Sammy?

She pulled the car into the drive next to the church, got out and unloaded the bucket of red tulips and yellow daffodils from the back seat. Maybe a little time spent alone in the sanctuary while she arranged the flowers for tomorrow's service would help calm her mind.

I don't know what to do, Lord. I don't even know how to pray in this situation. Maybe You'd best give me some direction, because I'm sure not doing very well on my own.

She straightened, closing the car door, and heard someone call her name. Gran Caldwell waved from
the front porch of the white clapboard house next to the church where Caldwells had lived for the past hundred and fifty years or so.

“Miranda, come along over here. I've got some lilacs for the vases.”

Miranda picked up the bucket and started toward her grandmother, her steps making little sound on the thick carpet of pine needles.

“Hey, Gran. I already have some of Momma's tulips and dafs.” She hefted the bucket as she grew near, hoping she could keep the conversation on flowers instead of the tangle her life was in at the moment.

“No paperwhites?” Gran did love the pale, old-fashioned cream narcissus. “We'll cut some of those, too, with the lilacs.”

Miranda followed the spare, erect figure in the faded print dress along the hedge of lilacs—deep purple, pale lavender, pure white. Her grandmother's green thumb was legendary. She inhaled, the perfume taking her back to playing under the lilac hedge with her sister, Chloe, on warm spring afternoons that seemed to last forever.

How long would it take Gran to bring up Tyler's arrival? Not long, she'd guess.

Gran cut a spray of purple blossoms with her shears and turned it in her hands as if assessing its worthiness to appear in the church vases. Then she looked at Miranda, her faded hazel eyes still sharp even though she'd soon celebrate her eighty-first birthday.

“I hear Tyler's back on the island.”

“Yes.” No sense trying to avoid discussing it with Gran, even if she wanted to. Gran always knew everything that happened on the island, and she generally knew what you should do before you did. “Someone sent him a photograph of Sammy.”

“So he came. Well, I reckon that's what he ought to do.”

“Ought to do?” She set the bucket down. “Gran, he's furious that I never told him about Sammy.”

Her grandmother eyed her sternly. “I'm not saying his coming here is a good thing. I'm just saying if he's any kind of an honorable man, he'd have come once he found out about the boy.”

Honorable. Tyler's face filled her mind, and she felt the jolt to her heart that she should be getting used to by now. Honorable wasn't a word she associated with Tyler, but maybe Gran had a point.

“I guess it might have been easier to toss the picture away and tell himself it was some sort of joke.” But then, Tyler never had been one to do things the easy way.

Gran nodded. “He wouldn't do that, not if he was a man you could have fallen in love with.” She snipped another stem of blossoms. “How is it going?”

Miranda thought about Tyler's rigid figure as he watched Sammy go off on the boat with David. “Not well.” She tried to swallow, but there was a lump in her throat that wouldn't go away. “He and Sammy—they just seem to glance off each other instead of connecting. Maybe that's best, anyway.”

“Best? Way I hear it, you were the one who asked Tyler to stay. Now you wanting him to leave?”

“I didn't think he'd agree.” Her reasoning seemed vaguely shameful when she tried to explain it to her grandmother. “I thought he'd say he was too busy and that would make him see that he didn't have time for Sammy. I thought he'd go away, and we could go back to our lives.”

“And now that he's staying, seems like everything's changed.”

All the things she hadn't been able to say to anyone else began to pour out of her mouth. “Gran, I just don't know what to do. If they go on the way they are, Tyler and Sammy are never going to be anything to each other. But if I help them…”

Her voice choked. Gran folded strong arms around her, holding her close. Miranda inhaled the lavender scent that always meant Gran to her.

“There now, child. Did you take it to the Lord?”

Miranda nodded, trying to sniff back tears. “I've prayed about it and prayed about it. I don't know if it's better for Sammy to lose his father now or to try and divide his life between our world and Tyler's. I guess the truth is, I'm scared.”

Gran took Miranda's face between her hands, her palms dry and cool against Miranda's flushed cheeks. “Seems to me you're trying to push God into choosing between your two options. How do you know the Lord doesn't have something else in mind entirely?”

“But—what else is there?”

“Miranda Jane Caldwell, you took vows before God
to love that man forever. Did you ever think maybe God wants the two of you back together again?”

For an instant she could only stare at Gran's face. The world narrowed to the question that hung in the air between them, Gran's challenging gaze, the faint buzz of a bee investigating the lilacs.

“That's impossible.” The words came out forcefully. She took a step back. “Gran, that can never happen.”

“Why not?”

“Isn't it obvious?” It certainly was to her. “Even if I wanted that, Tyler certainly doesn't. He's turned into a man just like his father, obsessed with business and making money. I can't ignore that, and even if I could, I still can't be the wife Tyler needs. I couldn't eight years ago, and I can't today.”

“You stop that kind of talk.” Gran shook her finger at Miranda as if she were six instead of twenty-six. “How do you know you're not the wife Tyler needs?”

“I tried!” Tears stung her eyes at the memory of those humiliating days. “I couldn't fit into Tyler's world. As soon as he saw me there, he must have known that.”

“So you came back here, where you felt safe.” There was no condemnation in her grandmother's voice, just concern. She took Miranda's hands in both of hers. “Child, you remember the verse I gave you?”

How could she forget? Gran gave each of her grandchildren a Bible verse to live by. Miranda's was embroidered on cream linen, framed and hanging on her bedroom wall.

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.

“I remember.” She tried for a watery smile. “I'm not sure I do so well with the patience part.”

Gran shook her hands as if she'd like to shake Miranda. “You're right good at humility, child. But it seems to me you're forgetting about how God dearly loves you. If you really believed that, you'd know you're worthy wherever you are, whether it's here or in that big house of Tyler's up north.”

It was as if she'd looked straight into Miranda's heart. Gran patted her cheek. “You think on that. God will give you the answer. You just have to listen.”

She managed to nod, hoping she could somehow hide her feelings from Gran's sharp eyes. She couldn't let herself believe that Gran's idea had any merit, because if she did, she might start hoping for something with Tyler that was never going to happen.

 

Miranda tucked a spray of white lilac into the vase with the tulips and assessed the effect. Yes, that was going to look lovely.

She took a breath, letting the peace of St. Andrew's seep into her troubled spirit. The small chapel had stood on this same spot for nearly two hundred years. She looked around at the simple wooden pews, the white walls, the stained-glass windows with their colors glowing in the afternoon
sunlight. She could use a little peace after listening to Gran's upsetting ideas.

Her gaze was drawn to the image of the risen Christ looking at Mary Magdalene, kneeling before him in the garden. The Christ figure glowed with light, seeming to radiate peace and understanding.