A Time to Forgive and Promise Forever (31 page)

She switched gears. “Before you go, you need to explain to Sammy why you're leaving.”

He slanted a look at her, his expression harassed. “I'm kind of in a hurry here, Miranda. Can't you explain it to him?”

“No, I can't.” She had to make Tyler understand. “This isn't just a matter of postponing the trip we planned to take today. The fact that you're leaving will upset him. You have to be the one to reassure him.”

The stern lines of his face softened, and she knew she'd reached him.

“Okay. You're right. I don't want my son getting the message from someone else that I've left.”

He was comparing himself with his father again, she supposed. Maybe that was a good thing, if it meant he was determined not to make the same mistakes.

“Thank you, Tyler. When you're talking to him I hope you won't—”

He lifted his eyebrows “Won't what?”

This was difficult. “I think it's better if he doesn't feel that you're out for revenge against your assistant, no matter what he's done to you.”

“A matter of values?” His voice was soft, and she couldn't tell whether he was angry or not.

“He's been taught that seeking revenge is wrong,”
she said firmly. “I don't want him getting mixed messages about that.”

Their gazes clashed for a moment. Then he nodded. “All right. I won't promise to change how I deal with Henry, but I certainly won't discuss it with Sammy. Still, he's going to have to understand that sometimes business has to take priority. That doesn't mean I love him any less.”

That was probably the best she was going to get from him on that subject.

“I think Sammy will understand that.” She put the last shirt in the suitcase. “Do you want anything else packed?” She gestured toward the closet.

“No.” He stepped away from the desk, putting out his hand toward her. “Stay a minute, Miranda. There's something else I want to talk with you about.”

To her surprise he looked uncertain. That wasn't an expression she was used to seeing on Tyler's face, and it sent a shiver of apprehension through her.

“Is anything wrong?”

“Not exactly. I've just been giving a lot of thought to what our lives are going to be like in the future—Sammy's, yours, mine. I'm sure you've been doing the same thing.”

She nodded. Tyler didn't need to know she had been cherishing some totally unreasonable hopes about that life.

“We'll have to work out some kind of schedule so that he sees you often.”

“You said once that he wasn't a package to be
shipped back and forth. I didn't understand what you meant then, but I do now.”

She wasn't sure where he was headed. “If Sammy's going to spend time with you in Baltimore, I guess he'll have to get used to traveling. That's the only option.”

“It's not the best one.” He crossed the few feet between them and took both of her hands in his. “I've given this a lot of thought. I think I know what's best for Sammy. He needs to have his parents together. We need to be a real family.”

Her knees went suddenly weak. “Wh—what do you mean?” He couldn't mean what she thought he did.

“I want you to marry me, Miranda.” His grasp tightened, sending a thousand unspoken messages along her skin. “Will you marry me again?”

Her heart swelled until she thought it would burst out of her chest and float to the ceiling. Tyler loved her. After all that had happened, after all this time, Tyler loved her. They were going to have the marriage she'd always dreamed about.

Apparently taking her stunned silence for doubt, he rubbed his fingers over her knuckles. “I wanted to bring this up now so you can think it over while I'm away.”

Think it over? Some caution sounded through the singing in her soul.

“Look, I know this won't be the romantic fairy tale we once thought we'd have, but we're not those young kids anymore, are we?”

It took a moment to process his words. I am, she wanted to cry, but she couldn't. She could only look at him, feeling the hope drain out of her.

“You must see that marriage is the sensible solution. It's not as though either of us is involved with anyone else. We both want to put Sammy first, and getting married is the best way to do that, don't you agree?”

A business deal. Obviously that was all this was to him. He didn't imagine marriage could mean anything else to her.

He was waiting for her answer. He'd said he wanted to give her time to consider, but he obviously didn't think it was necessary. He expected her to agree with him.

The longing to do just that overwhelmed her. She wanted—oh, how much she wanted—to say yes. To be Tyler's wife again, the way she longed to be.

It wasn't right. She knew that deep in her soul. God wanted more for His dearly loved children than that. Whether Tyler knew it or not, they both deserved better from marriage.

“Miranda?” He was smiling, confident.

“I'm sorry, Tyler.” How much it cost to pull her hands away from his, knowing she might never feel his touch again. “I don't think that would work.”

His expression was stunned, disbelieving. “Not work? Why wouldn't it work? You can't deny it would be best for Sammy.”

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry in front of him. “I don't agree with you. Sammy won't benefit from seeing his parents in a marriage that isn't real.”

Anger flared in his eyes and declared itself in the
taut lines of his face. “I'm offering you a marriage that's real in every way I can make it. I'm not suggesting we pretend anything.”

“You're asking that we pretend the most important thing of all.” Couldn't he see that? Her head throbbed. “Tyler, you're asking me to take vows before God to love and cherish—vows that you don't mean. I can't do that.”

“Grow up, Miranda. Half the marriages that are based on romantic love end up in the divorce court. We're the living proof of that, aren't we?” He gripped her hands tighter, as if he could pressure the answer he wanted from her. “We'd have caring and respect between us. And the attraction is still there. We both know that. Isn't that enough?”

Again she felt the insidious temptation to say yes—to have as much of Tyler as he was willing to offer. But she couldn't.

“No.” Her voice trembled on the verge of tears, and she held them back with a fierce effort. “I'm sorry, Tyler. It's not enough.”

She could almost imagine she saw something die in his eyes.

“Fine.” He flung her hands away from him, then snatched his bag. “If that's what you want, that's how it will be.”

He was walking away. She wanted to stop him, whatever the cost. She couldn't. She could only watch him disappear out the door.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, letting the hot, salty tears spill once he wasn't there to see. She'd
had everything she wanted there in her hands, and she'd let it go.

No. She wiped the tears away with an impatient hand, but they persisted. Tyler hadn't offered what she really wanted and needed. He hadn't proposed a marriage based on love and blessed by God.

Ironic that, once she'd finally seen she could cope with his world, he'd made her the one offer she couldn't accept. If God's love made her fit for any society, it also made her deserving of a real love.

Tyler couldn't see she offered what he needed so desperately to fill that aching void inside him left by his loveless childhood. He needed her love, but he couldn't admit it. He was trying to cheat. He wanted to fake a solution that didn't require risking his heart.

She couldn't help him do that. Even if it meant a lifetime of grieving for what they might have had, she couldn't.

She'd have to trust that God could see a way out of this, because she couldn't.

C
ould this day get any worse? Tyler sat in the corporate jet that was supposed to rush him anywhere he needed to be. He stared at sullen clouds and rain spattering against the window.

Sat was the operative word here. Even the best transport money could buy didn't argue with the weather.

First this day had brought the stunning news about Henry. Then had come the utter fiasco with Miranda. Then a series of storms had come up seemingly from nowhere, grounding flights and throwing his plans into disarray.

He picked up the phone. He'd better let Josh know what was happening. He didn't want his brother getting nervous and blowing everything.

“I thought you'd be on your way by now.” Josh sounded as jittery as he'd feared.

“That's because you haven't checked the weather
in Savannah. I can't go anywhere until they let us take off. What's happening there?”

“Henry's been closeted in his office all day, making calls. Do you want me to try and find out who he's calling?”

“I don't want you to do anything!”

His brother's silence told him that his reaction had come out a lot more explosively than he'd intended.

“Sorry.” It wasn't fair to take his frustrations out on the one person who was trying to help him. “I didn't mean to blow up at you.”

“Is something wrong? Besides the obvious, I mean.” Josh sounded as if he really wanted to know.

Tyler realized in a moment of surprise that he wanted to confide in his brother. He had to talk to someone, and there wasn't anyone else. He looked at that fact bleakly. It was a sad comment on his life.

“Things aren't going well here right now, and the timing of this situation didn't help any.”

“Things aren't going well with Sammy or with Miranda?”

Josh's perception startled him.

“How did you get so smart about relationships all of a sudden?”

“Lots of observation,” Josh said. He chuckled. “Not personal experience, I assure you.”

“I guess not.” Maybe that was the point of his brother's habit of never appearing with the same woman twice. Josh was as wary of relationships as Tyler was. “Our family life didn't prepare us for anything most people would call normal, did it?”

“Hardly.” Josh hesitated a moment, and Tyler listened to the spatter of the rain and the static on the phone. “You know, our family to the contrary, plenty of people manage to create real marriages for themselves. Maybe even a Winchester could do that.”

“Maybe.” There didn't seem much else to say. “Hold the fort. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

He put the phone away, but Josh's words seemed to hang in the air. Some people manage to create real marriages for themselves.

Real? The word lodged in his mind, resisting his effort to ignore it.

Real wasn't what he'd offered Miranda. She'd been wise enough to see that.

If he'd really proposed, if he'd told her he didn't know if he had it in him to love someone but he wanted to try, what would she have said then?

You'll never know, because you don't have guts enough to risk it.

The thought came out of nowhere, shaking him. Was that it? Was he really too afraid?

He took a hard look at the possibilities. The alternative seemed to be living his father's life over again, relying on no one, substituting business success for personal success, having no decent relationships with any of the people he loved.

Love. The word terrified him, and that was the truth of it. He'd been determined to love no one. Then Sammy came along.

He hadn't had a choice about being Sammy's
father. Loving him had been inevitable and irrevocable. Miranda was another story.

He'd played it safe. Disgust at himself welled up suddenly. He'd made a halfhearted offer of a half-baked marriage, and he'd expected Miranda to jump at the chance. Was it any wonder she'd been revolted? He hadn't even taken the time to do it right, trying to sandwich in asking her to be his wife between business calls and rushing off to Baltimore.

He saw what he had to do, and it scared him. If he wanted to make things work with Miranda and Sammy, he had to be honest with them. He had to show them that he would put them first. There was a way to do that, if he could.

For a long moment he stared at the phone in his hand. Then he punched in his brother's number.

“Josh Winchester speaking.”

“I want you to handle this situation with Henry,” Tyler said, not bothering with the pleasantries.

“What?” Josh's voice sounded far away, as if he'd removed the phone from his ear to stare at it, incredulous. “Are you sure about that?”

“I'm sure.” Suddenly he was smiling. “You're not any less prepared to take over than I was when Dad died. You can do it.”

“But what if Warren doesn't want to go through with the deal? You know the competition has probably lowballed us, based on whatever info Henry sold them.”

He could see only one way to handle this, and Josh could do it as well as he could.

“Go in there prepared to sell them all over again. The bottom line is, we can give them the best product at the best price, regardless of what Henry's done.” He hoped Josh could hear the conviction in his voice. “You can do this. And when the meeting's over, either way, you can have the pleasure of firing Henry, with my compliments.”

“If you say so.”

Through the doubt, Tyler heard a new sense of responsibility in his brother's voice. For some reason it made him think of Miranda's father talking about how he'd let his brother down by not forgiving him for his mistakes and trusting him again.

“I say so,” he said firmly.

“What are you going to be doing while I'm playing chief?”

“Trying to put my family back together again, if I can.”

“You can.” Josh sounded confident. “Good luck.”

If. He hung up, trying not to think how iffy this really was. Whatever the chance, he was doing the right thing.

He ran through the drizzle to the rental car. Josh deserved the chance to see what he could do. And Tyler—well, deserve it or not, he wanted a chance to convince Miranda that they could build a life together.

Eager to hear her voice, he called the inn as he drove toward the island. It was her father, not Miranda, who answered.

“Thought you were on your way north.” Clayton sounded wary.

“I made a mistake,” he said. “I'm on my way back now. Where is Miranda?”

“Well, Sammy was right disappointed about not going to Angel Isle today, so Miranda decided to take him.”

“In this weather?” Fear gripped him.

Clayton must have heard it. “Now, there's no cause to be upset. They left in plenty of time to be there before these storms come up. Miranda will have them snug in the cottage until the weather clears, count on it.”

“You're sure they'd have gotten there?”

“Certain sure. You just come on back home. These storms will blow off before you know it.”

Relieved, he put the phone down and put both hands on the wheel. Fierce wind buffeted the car, and the drainage ditches on either side of the road showed an alarming tendency to spill over onto the surface. Clayton said the storms would blow over soon, and he certainly knew the weather on the islands as well as anyone. They'd be okay.

That assurance was growing thin by the time he battled his way across the bridge. Each line of thunderstorms was succeeded by another, equally bad. Impelled by fear for Miranda and Sammy that grew with each rumble of thunder and crack of lightning, he pulled to a stop at the dock in front of Adam's boatyard. He spotted Adam tying up a small motor-boat.

He stepped into a downpour that soaked him through in seconds and ran toward the dock. The
fear that rode him quadrupled. He had to get to them. He couldn't explain it logically, but he knew in his bones he had to get to them.

 

“Now we'll be warm in no time at all.” Shivering, Miranda touched a match to the paper she'd crumpled under the kindling in the fireplace. She smiled at Sammy, hoping she sounded calm and confident.

A blast of wind rattled the windows in spite of the storm shutters they'd closed, and apprehension widened Sammy's eyes. “D'you think it's going to last a long time, Momma?”

“Oh, I don't think so.” Flames licked around the pine knots, catching quickly. She held out her hands to the welcome warmth. “Even if it does, we're okay, aren't we? We've got a fire to keep us warm, a roof to keep us dry, and we can probably find something to eat in the kitchen if we need it. It's an adventure.”

He grinned at her with his father's smile, shattering her heart yet again. “I'll bet none of the cousins got stuck here in such a bad storm.”

“You can tell them all about it, can't you?” She put her arm around his shoulder.

He leaned against her, relaxing. “I hope the storm lasts till suppertime, so we can cook hot dogs over the fire. And marshmallows.”

Apparently her words had calmed his fears. Now if only she could calm her own, she'd be all right.

Where was Tyler? She suppressed a shiver. He'd
set off to fly to Baltimore. Would the plane be safely above the storms by now? Or was he stuck on the ground in Savannah, raging against the freak weather that kept him from being where he wanted to be?

Her heart ached so strongly she rubbed her hand against her chest, as if that would ease the burden. Sammy had taken the news that his father had to go away with disappointment but no doubts that he would be back. He'd probably talk Tyler into another trip to Angel Isle, based on the argument that this trip was supposed to involve all three of them.

All three of them. The image made her heartache worse. If she'd said yes to Tyler, they'd have looked forward to a lifetime of all three of them.

No, not a lifetime. Sammy would grow up, go off to college, have a life of his own. That was the way it should be. What would she and Tyler have done then, tied in a marriage that wasn't real?

She'd dreamed, often enough, of growing old with Tyler, but not that way. Not living as two separate individuals trapped in the same house, existing politely in a vacuum.

As God's dearly beloved children…

God had something better in mind for those He loved. She had to believe that.

Sammy stirred. “You think we could make some popcorn in the fireplace?”

“Hungry already?” she teased, ruffling his hair. “Sure, I guess so. You go pick out a game you'd like to play, and I'll get the popcorn and popper out.”

He was up in an instant. Another boom of thunder
sounded, very close, and she saw the flicker of fear in his eyes, quickly masked.

“I'll get Monopoly, okay? Then it'll be okay if the storm lasts a long time.”

She gave him a reassuring smile, and he ran through the kitchen toward the game room they'd added years ago to the cottage. She followed, hoping the popcorn jars in the kitchen were full. Sammy would be disappointed if his adventure didn't include popcorn, and probably hot dogs, as well. Since the storm didn't show any signs of letting up, he'd probably get his wish.

She pushed through the kitchen door, looking through the opposite door to the game room. They'd never bothered to put storm shutters on those windows, since the wind didn't come from that direction. That seemed small comfort in a storm like this. Sheets of rain drove against the exposed panes, and the wind whipped the palmettos and live oaks into a frenzy of ripping leaves and torn Spanish moss.

She paused, hand reaching for the popcorn jar on the shelf above the stove. Sammy was safe enough in the walk-in closet where the games were stored, but the turmoil outside the windows still made her uneasy.

“Sammy, grab the game and hurry in here,” she called. “Let's get back to the fireplace where it's warm.”

“Okay, Momma, I'm coming.”

She heard the game hit the floor, then Sammy muttering something about dropping it. Lightning cracked again, illuminating the wild scene outside
the windows in an eerie light. The clap of thunder followed so closely they were almost simultaneous. Apprehension skittered along her skin, and she put the jar down.

“Come on, sugar. I'll get it.” She stepped into the game room, heading for the closet.

Lightning cracked again, so close the acrid scent filled the air. Another crack burst on her ears, even louder than the thunder. The hundred-year-old live oak outside the windows shuddered. Before she could move, it fell. The room collapsed around her in a kaleidoscope of shattering walls and flying debris.

She was on the floor, a chair lying across her legs. She struggled to her feet. Sammy. She had to get to her son.

“Sammy, where are you?” She looked around, completely disoriented. The room was a shambles of broken siding and shattered glass. “Sammy!”

“I'm okay, Momma.” His voice was reassuringly near. “But I can't get up.”

“Hold on, sugar. I'm coming.” She battled a few steps, shoving debris aside. A blast of wind drove a sheet of rain into her face, and the cold shock cleared her head.

Please, Lord.
“Sammy, say something!”

“I'm here. In the closet.”

Thank You, Lord.

She stumbled across the room, dashing the water from her eyes so she could see. The door-frame was still there, the walls surrounding it still
upright. She clambered over a fallen beam and made it through the door.

“I'm okay, Momma, but I can't get out.” Sammy's anxious face peered at her through a tangle of boards. The shelves had come down, boxing him into a small den behind them.

“I'll get you out. Don't you worry.” She forced her voice to remain steady while panic ripped along her nerves. She grabbed the nearest board, yanking it free.

Please, God, please, God, give me the strength to get him out.