A Time to Forgive and Promise Forever (28 page)

Chloe laughed, her lively face filled with the serenity it had acquired since her marriage to Luke Hunter. “Honey, perfection is usually considered a good thing in a man.”

“I keep trying to remind myself why I'm no longer Mrs. Tyler Winchester,” she said with mock severity. “It doesn't help to have everyone singing his praises all of a sudden.”

“Singing his praises?” Chloe raised her eyebrows. “Sugar, that doesn't sound like the brothers I know and love.”

“Well, maybe not the twins,” she admitted. “But even they said he wasn't half bad after he took over hanging the decorations so they didn't have to.”

“So what's wrong?” Chloe slipped an arm around Miranda's waist. “Don't you want Sammy's dad to get along with everyone?”

Was she really being that selfish? “I suppose so,” she said. “It just makes me wonder what he's up to.”

Chloe gave her a squeeze. “Never look a helpful man or a gift horse in the mouth.” She picked up the tray of glasses. “I never do.”

But Chloe was secure in the love of the man who'd been meant for her. And Miranda was…nervous.

Nervous about this suddenly charming and cooperative Tyler. Nervous about the weekend in Charleston she'd committed herself to. And nervous about what the future held.

Please.
She snatched a moment for what Gran always called a prayer on the run.
Let this family gathering show Tyler what Sammy has here. Let him understand that he can't make big changes in Sammy's life.

That sounded like she was telling God what to do rather than asking for His guidance. Still, she clung to her plea stubbornly. She did know what was best for Sammy, didn't she?

She batted away one of the helium-filled balloons that floated around the room, bumping on the ceiling. A huge balloon bouquet had arrived unexpectedly that morning with a card signed Uncle Josh. Sammy had looked astonished.

“Do I have an uncle Josh?”

“That's my brother,” Tyler had explained.

Now that she thought of it, Tyler had looked almost as surprised as Sammy. Apparently he hadn't expected this of his brother.

The piñata split open. Candy and small toys scattered on the floor. Tyler stood back, watching with a smile as the kids rushed to snatch them up.

Then he looked at her, the smile lingering, growing softer, more personal.

It was as if he'd reached across the room and touched her cheek. A wave of warmth swept over Miranda, and her fingers fumbled with the candles she was putting on the cake.

Tyler worked his way through the horde of small children to her side. “Can I help you with that?”

She handed him the candles. “You do it. I seem to be all thumbs.”

He arranged candles on the huge sheet cake decorated with dolphins and seashells. “Quite a party. Do you always go all out for birthdays?”

“Well, only the kids get piñatas, but everyone gets a party. It's a good excuse for cake and ice cream.”

He frowned, adjusting the position of one candle as if it displeased him. “Another tradition, in fact.”

“I guess so. All families have birthday traditions, don't they?”

“I don't know. I was always away at boarding school on my birthday. My mother sent a gift, but that was about all.”

At Tyler's mention of boarding school, she felt as if a cold draft had blown through the room, extinguishing the candles.

“You…you're not thinking of boarding school for Sammy, are you?” She could never agree to that.

He straightened, the smile wiped from his face. “I did think that at first. It's what seems natural to me. My brother and I never questioned that we'd go off to boarding school when we were eight.”

Her heart cramped at the thought of the boy he'd been. “I couldn't let you do that to Sammy.”

“Relax. I've given up that idea.” He glanced around the room. “Sammy shouldn't be away from family.”

She could breathe again. “I'm glad you see that.”

He frowned, his dark eyes serious. “That doesn't mean I'll let you have everything your way. Sammy has to learn to be a part of the outside world, too.”

“Is that what this trip to Charleston is?” Fear made her voice sharp. “Some kind of test to see how Sammy does there?”

“Of course not.” His voice was even sharper than hers, and the cooperative Tyler who'd been around all day seemed to vanish. “Don't put words in my mouth, Miranda. I've already told you—I just want Sammy to see the world I function in, because someday he'll have to function there, too.”

“It didn't work very well when I tried it.” Apprehension about the weekend forced the words out.

That reminder seemed to rattle him. For a moment she didn't think he'd reply, but then he shook his head, face somber.

“I admit I didn't do a good job of introducing you to my world, Miranda. But then, you never really tried to fit in, did you?”

“That's not fair.” She lowered her voice to a furious whisper. “I didn't have the least idea what I was getting into, and you didn't help.”

“We both made mistakes.” He spoke quietly, although no one in the chattering crowd could possibly hear them. “We were both too young to do it right.” His hand closed around her wrist, and her
pulse thundered against his palm. “I won't make the same mistake with our son. I promise you that.”

She wasn't sure whether to consider that a promise or a threat.

“M
iranda looks upset.” Gran Caldwell planted herself in front of Tyler, letting the party swirl around them. Her voice was tart, and her eyes snapped at Tyler.

He glanced toward the table where Miranda and her sister were rapidly cutting cake and passing pieces out. He could protest that she was busy with the birthday party, but he suspected a half-truth wouldn't sit well with Miranda's grandmother.

“We had a misunderstanding.” He tried not to let exasperation show in his voice. Didn't Miranda see that he had a right to expose their son to the wider world?

“Be better for Sammy if his parents understood each other.”

Miranda's grandmother certainly had a point there. It was what he believed, too. Unfortunately, every time he thought he and Miranda were reaching that point, some unwary remark opened a chasm between them.

The buzz of conversation and the high voices of the children effectively masked anything he and Mrs. Caldwell might say to each other. Still, he wasn't sure he wanted to be having this talk with her.

“We're still trying to figure out how to deal with this situation,” he said. How impolite would it be to slip away from the lecture Miranda's grandmother undoubtedly had in mind?

The frilly pink party hat that sat atop Gran's coronet of gray hair bobbed. “I reckon it's not easy. But then, change never is.”

He glanced at her, a little surprised by the comment. “I wouldn't have thought change was something that came very often to Caldwell Island. Everywhere I turn, I trip over one tradition or another.”

“Change comes to everybody, no matter where they live.” She patted a child who ran by, but her gaze was still focused on him. “Caldwell Island might look the same to you as it did eight years ago, but it's changed beyond all recognition since I was a girl.”

“I suppose it has.” This elderly woman couldn't imagine the changes that took place daily in the world he lived in.

“You're thinking I don't know a thing about how you live.”

Her perception startled him again, and he could see she knew that and enjoyed it.

“I didn't mean to offend you.”

She patted his arm, her heavily veined hand sur
prisingly strong. “You don't have to worry about being polite to me, son. You just have to worry about doing your best for Sammy and Miranda.”

“The tricky part is deciding just what the best is.” That was the thought that haunted him, but he surprised himself by saying it to her.

“Our Miranda has strong feelings about raising her son.”

Gran Caldwell looked across the room, and he followed her gaze to where Miranda was seating children around the oval wooden table they'd covered with a bright red birthday cloth. She was passing out plates of cake and simultaneously refereeing some dispute.

The denim skirt and aqua shirt Miranda wore outlined her slender figure. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her wear anything that didn't look good on her. Not stylish, maybe, and certainly not expensive, but that didn't seem to matter.

“She comes from a long line of strong women.” Gran's eyes twinkled. “Opinionated, too.”

“I've noticed that.” His lips creased in an unwilling smile. The woman had him, and she knew it.

She patted his arm again with what he might imagine was affection. “Talk to her. She'll listen if she knows you respect her opinion. You can't understand each other if you're not willing to do that.”

Apparently having said what she intended to, Miranda's grandmother moved off. He let his gaze drift to Miranda again.

She had stepped back a little from the table,
letting her father snap a photo of Sammy with his cake. Her gaze rested on their son, and he saw a vulnerability in her expression that he hadn't recognized before.

Strong, yes. Her grandmother was right about that. But Miranda was vulnerable, too, in spite of being surrounded by people who loved her. Whether she knew it or not, she needed a man to share things with, a man she could depend on.

And how exactly did that fit into the idea he had been struggling with for the last few days—the thought that he and Miranda should marry again?

That would be best for Sammy, wouldn't it? He'd have both his parents, and he wouldn't have to feel split between them.

They'd need to work something out so that Sammy and Miranda still spent plenty of time on the island. He knew Miranda would never agree to anything else. Besides, he'd grown to respect the heritage his son had here.

Marriage would affect him and Miranda, too, obviously, as well as Sammy. As for himself, he'd decided a long time ago that marriage wasn't for him. He'd never settle for the kind of relationship his parents had had, and his attempt to create something different with Miranda had ended in a dismal failure.

He couldn't offer Miranda that fairy-tale romance they'd once thought they could have. He wasn't even sure such a thing existed.

Probably even happily married people like Miranda's parents eventually settled for mutual respect
and friendship. Wasn't it reasonable for him and Miranda to start out that way the second time around?

This could be right for all three of them, but he had to move cautiously. Miranda's grandmother had it right—he and Miranda had to understand each other before they could forge a new relationship. He had to be patient.

Unfortunately, patience wasn't one of his better qualities. He was used to choosing a goal and charging toward it, pushing aside anything that stood in his way.

He imagined the weekend trip to Charleston as a positive step toward making Miranda see that they should be together as a family. If that were going to happen, he had to make peace with her right now.

He worked his way across the room, dodging the sticky hands of several small Caldwell cousins who'd escaped from the cake table. Miranda was trying to make room for a tray of glasses.

“Let me take that.” He grasped the metal tray and put it down on the space she cleared. She shot him a glance of thanks, followed by instant wariness.

She was still thinking about their last conversation, obviously. If he wanted this to work, he had to clear that up.

“Can we talk?”

Her steady gaze assessed him, then she nodded. “Yes, if you can talk while carrying the coffee in.”

“I can do that.”

He followed her through the door to the kitchen. It swung shut, cutting off the party clamor. The ensuing quiet was so startling his ears rang.

Miranda picked up another tray, this one filled with cups. “I'll take this in, if you can bring the coffee urn.”

He put his hands over hers, setting the tray on the scrubbed pine table. “Wait just a second. Please,” he added.

“Whatever it is, can't it wait?” She tried to pull away, but he held her hands fast.

“Nobody's in that much of a hurry for coffee. You can give me a minute.”

Her green eyes turned stormy, but she nodded. “All right. A minute.”

“I'm sorry.”

Her hands stilled in his. “For what?”

“That conversation we had about going to Charleston—I said it all wrong.”

She was listening to him. He could let go of her hands. He didn't want to.

“I understand. You want Sammy to go so he can see what kind of circles you move in.” Again that hint of vulnerability showed.

“I want the two of you to come so we can have a good time together,” he said firmly. “And I suppose I do want Sammy to see me on my own turf. That's not such a bad thing, is it?”

“Are you saying I overreacted?” Her lips curved in the beginning of a reluctant smile.

The tension inside him eased. She was going to listen. “Maybe just a little.”

“Okay.” She let out a breath that was almost a sigh. “You're right. Sammy should see you in a situation where you feel comfortable.”

Her comment startled him. Had he been acting uncomfortable?

“I like it here, Miranda. But we are kind of surrounded by family.”

“Especially today.” The corners of her eyes crinkled. “I know. You deserve some alone time with Sammy off the island and away from hordes of Caldwells.”

He smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. “So we'll go?”

Her lashes swept down to hide her eyes, but she nodded.

“We'll have a good time, I promise.” They would. He'd make sure of that.

Miranda would begin to see that they belonged together as a family. Maybe what he had to offer wasn't a fairy-tale romance, but it would be good enough.

 

She had to learn to cope with Tyler's world, or Sammy wouldn't feel comfortable there. So this weekend was the challenge she had to face, no matter how she dreaded it. Miranda looked out the car window, watching signs and consulting the map as Tyler negotiated the narrow streets of downtown Charleston.

“Turning left at the next corner will take us toward the Battery.”

Tyler nodded, his face, in profile, relaxed. City traffic clearly wasn't the monster to him that it had always been to her.

“I want to take a picture of the cannons.” Sammy
leaned as far forward in the back seat as his seat belt would permit, brandishing the disposable camera his father had bought him for the trip. “I can take my pictures to school, can't I?”

“Sure you can,” Tyler said. “We'll make sure we get lots of them.”

Everything about him seemed at ease. As he'd said, he was on his own turf here. Charleston might not be that familiar to him, but it was a city, and the people they'd encounter were his colleagues.

They'd arranged to sightsee during the day, then go to Dan and Sheila Carpenter's house in time to dress for dinner and the charity concert. Her stomach clenched at the thought, and she chastised herself for being such a wimp. The Carpenters were just people, after all.

The truth was, she was still a daughter in her father's house, still living the simple life she'd always known. Gran had been right about that—Caldwell Island wasn't a frontier for her.

She would find a way to adapt to this situation. She had to, for Sammy's sake. It didn't have anything to do with her relationship with Tyler, just Sammy. She sat up a little straighter. She could do anything for her son.

“There's a parking lot.” She pointed. “I'm sure we can walk down to the Battery from here.”

Tyler pulled into the gravel lot, taking a ticket from the automatic dispenser. He gave her a quick smile. “Good navigating, Miranda.”

She folded the city map and slipped it into her
bag. “I don't mind reading the map, but I surely don't like driving in the city.”

“Charleston is a challenge. These streets must not have been widened since horse-and-carriage days.”

“No, I suppose they haven't.” The narrow streets, lined with elegant antebellum houses and pocket gardens tucked behind wrought-iron fences, seemed to take them a step back in time.

They got out, Sammy checking to be sure he had his camera and baseball cap.

“Did you know the War Between the States started at Fort Sumter?” Sammy fell in step with his father.

Tyler smiled at him. “I assume you mean the Civil War?”

Sammy grinned. “Don't let Gran hear you call it that.”

The ease of their exchange warmed Miranda's heart. Whatever the future held, this was how the relationship should be between Sammy and his daddy. Her son deserved what she had with her father. It had never been right to try to keep Sammy and Tyler apart.

I thought I was doing the right thing, Lord. Teach me how to look at myself more clearly. Show me how to make up for my mistakes.

She caught a glimpse of water ahead, and in a few minutes they'd emerged onto the wide walk and wall of the Battery. Out in the harbor, the twin forts that once protected the city had, no doubt, been invaded by tourists. The breeze from the water lifted her hair.

“Cannons,” Sammy said with satisfaction,
pointing to the black cannons that lined the Battery. “I knew there'd be cannons.”

“Looks like there are some soldiers, too.” Tyler nodded to two young men in gray uniforms who leaned against the wall.

“They're Citadel cadets,” Sammy said knowledgeably. “I thought I'd like to go to the Citadel when I get big enough, but Uncle David says if I want to study dolphins, like he does, I should go where he went to school in Florida. Then I can be an…an oceanographer.” He said the long word carefully.

They reached the wall, and Tyler leaned against it, looking at their son. “Is that what you want to be, an oceanographer?”

Was that disapproval in his voice? She couldn't be sure. It might be, if Tyler envisioned Sammy taking over the company for him one day.

Sammy shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe.” He swung the camera up. “I'm going to take a picture of the cannon.” He darted off.

Tyler watched him run along the walkway. “That is one smart kid we have.”

“Of course he is.” She leaned against the wall next to him. She didn't know whether or not to be offended that Tyler would even think he had to say it.

He focused on her, smiling. “Don't get huffy. I just meant I'd probably never heard the word oceanographer when I was his age.”

“Well, Sammy's grown up with the sea. You had other interests.”

Tyler shook his head, the smile fading a little as he stared at the water. He'd rolled back his sleeves, and his forearms were tanned against the cream-colored shirt. Seagulls swooped, wings sparkling in the sunlight.

“You mean my father had other interests. My future was predetermined. I had to take over the company. He just never thought it would happen as soon as it did.”

“Is that what you hope for Sammy?” She forced her voice to be steady. “That he'll take over the company one day?”

“I confess the thought crossed my mind when I met him. Why wouldn't it?”

Before she could protest, he touched her hand where it rested on the wall.