Loving Hearts (3 page)

Outside as they headed back to the library, Esther noticed the casual way he ambled beside her. A gentle breeze blew and ruffled strands of dark hair against his forehead. He lifted his fingers and drew them through his locks, adjusted his glasses by the earpiece and gave her a smile.

Amazed, Esther felt a flutter in her chest. She drew her hand upward against the decorative patch on her denim dress to contain the alien feeling.

“I’ll take my vacation time next week, spending it at the city marina,” Ian said, seemingly unaware of the tremor beneath her hand. “I’d like you to stop by and see the work I’m doing on the boat…and I’d like to hear what you think about it.”

“Sailboats and I don’t mix,” she said, flinging out the comment to cover her discomfort. “I haven’t sailed in years…not since—”

“I know,” he said, “but you ride in cars, and they’re much more dangerous.”

He was right, but that didn’t make the memories any easier. The experience that horrible day had changed her life. Looking into his smiling eyes, she wanted to toss away her fears, but they involved more than sailing. Esther had set her mind on a single life. Unable to open her heart to hurt and rejection, Esther refused to get excited over a little masculine attention.

Besides, from her experience, men were fickle. With the speed of light they seemed to lose interest in hobbies, possessions and even friendships. Her library patrons attested to that. Women remained faithful to their favorite authors and genres. Men’s interests seemed to wander.

Esther shook her head. “I can’t make any promises.”

“None required,” he said. “I’ll be there every day until dark. I could show you the boat and…we could have dinner.”

“I have the research business,” she said. “That doesn’t leave much time.”

She watched his smile fade, and her own joy dimmed. If only she could say yes, but she didn’t have any interest in romance…not even a platonic male friend. The whole idea lent itself to trouble.

“If you change your mind, you’re welcome to drop by any time,” he said as they climbed the steps to the library.

“Thanks,” she said, wanting to end the conversation. She followed him through the front door and
headed for the back to remove her jacket and stow her shoulder bag.

When she returned, she saw he’d found his way to the computers where several patrons searched for information. Instead of offering help, Esther strode to the desk and tried to forget his invitation, which hung before her like a carrot.

She’d become independent and solitary for too long. Against her better judgment she let her gaze drift toward Ian. He stared at the computer screen, shaking his head in seeming frustration.

Nabbing her common sense, she faced the truth. A librarian assisted patrons. Without further hesitation she headed his way, certain that she could find what he needed more quickly than he could.

Now, if she could only do the same for herself.

“S
ay that again,” Rachel said, disbelieving her ears.

“Let’s elope.” Jeff grasped her hand and kissed her fingers. “That will solve our problem. Run away and get married. People do it all the time.”

“Not this people.” Rachel gazed at him, amazed at his suggestion. “You know how I was raised, Jeff. I couldn’t do that to my dad or Esther.”

“We’ll ask your dad’s forgiveness after it’s over. And Esther—she’s a problem. We’ll never have a wedding if we’re waiting for her. Let’s elope, Rachel. That’s our only solution.”

Since the day Esther had told her that once again she’d made no headway with their father, Rachel had seen no hope. Tears blurred her vision and rolled down her cheeks. She loved Jeff, and no doubt he loved her, but she had been raised knowing God expected her to obey her parents. The Lord commanded
it, and Rachel could do nothing else—no matter how much she loved Jeff. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“Then what can we do?” He released her hand and fell against the sofa cushion. “This doesn’t make sense, Rachel. You know it and I know it. I’m sorry. Waiting is hopeless. We have to do something.”

“Like what?” she said, trying to be brave while with her sleeve she mopped the tears that dripped from her chin.

“We need to get Esther in gear. Find her a husband.”

Rachel’s heart yo-yoed to her toes and back. “What? Do you hear what you’re saying?”

“What else is there? I want to marry you before we’re too old to enjoy it.” He slammed his fist against his leg. “Think. If Esther stays single the rest of her life, we’ll have to wait until she dies. Is that stupid, or what?”

“Don’t say things like that. You’re being unreasonable.” Her heart rose to her throat. He hadn’t been unreasonable. Her father was, and Jeff had been accurate. Unless Esther married or her father had a change of heart—and that seemed inconceivable— Rachel would be single the rest of her life.

Jeff glowered at her, his cheeks flushed. “You think I’m being unreasonable?”

Rachel captured his hands and cupped them in hers. “I’m sorry, Jeff. You’re not at all unreasonable. You’ve been more patient than any man I know. We’ll think of something.”

“Look, why can’t we give it a try? Your birthday is two weekends away. I planned to give you a little
party…so why not include two or three single guys from the resort? We’ll make sure Esther’s there.”

He beamed, and Rachel hated to dim his plans. “Most single men date. Won’t they bring someone along?”

His smile faded, as she had expected. “Okay. How about Hal? He’s single and lives in the next apartment…and he isn’t dating. I’ll tell him about the good-looking single woman who’ll be at the party.”

“Would he come?” Even if he did, Rachel knew her sister. Esther would be standoffish and scowl through the whole party if she had any idea they were trying to play matchmaker. “It won’t work. I know it.”

“Have faith, Rachel. Bay Breeze has the big Fourth of July party. I’ll see to it that Esther gets an invitation…somehow.” He dragged his fingers through his boyish blond hair. “We can at least give it a try.”

His sweet, pleading grin sent her heart galloping. How could she say no? He’d already said it. This could be her only chance at marrying Jeff. Even though he loved her, how much longer would he wait?

“Okay,” she said, “we’ll give it a try. But promise no one will be hurt…especially Esther.”

“Promise.” He slid his arm across her shoulders and drew her closer. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. She yielded her lips to his, praying that God would guide their actions. If she hurt Esther, she’d never forgive herself…or Jeff.

Esther slowed her steps, astounded that she had prodded herself to visit the bustling marina. She’d waited two weeks before accepting his invitation. While some boats stood in dry dock for maintenance or repair, others hummed into the slips with well-tuned motors, their sails furled.

Embarrassed, she stood on the pier and eyed the many boats, wondering which one belonged to Ian. She’d never asked the name—and now she stared at
Suzie II, Bright Penny, Just 4 Fun,
a multitude of catchy phrases. While she studied the boats to find Ian, her stomach turned cartwheels. Why had she come?

As she turned away to escape the busy pier, a voice sailed through the breeze.

“Esther?”

Pivoting, she scanned the dock again and, seeing him, sent Ian an uneasy wave as he bounded toward her.

“I’m glad you came,” he said, a shy smile playing on his lips. “I’d nearly given up hope that you’d take me up on my offer.”

She’d thought the same. Still, seeing his pleased look gave her a warm feeling. “I had the day off and decided it was too lovely to sit inside doing research.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “Come see what I’ve done…with help. I decided I couldn’t do it alone.” He beckoned her to follow.

Walking behind him, Esther admired his build. In the library and at the resort, his physique had often been hidden beneath a suit jacket or windbreaker.
Today, a T-shirt snuggled against his well-toned chest. His tanned arms rippled with muscles. He seemed like a seaman…as Uncle Jim had looked while raising the sails or fighting a bullying wind.

The memory squeezed against her heart, but Ian’s enthusiasm drew her forward.

“Can you climb?” he asked, pointing to the ladder.

She nodded, glad that she’d worn sneakers and a pair of jeans. He waited behind her as she moved up the ladder, and at the top he hovered nearby to give her a boost onto the boat deck, then followed.

“What’s her name?” Esther asked, straightening her back and eyeing the freshly polished hull.

Ian ran his hand along the railing feeling the smooth, polished wood. “She’s called
Lady Day,
” he said, “but captains always want to rename their boat. I’ll give her a new name when I christen her.”

She nodded and looked toward the horizon, drawing in a breath of air drifting up from the river and the connecting lake. Ian stood so near she caught the fragrance of his sun-warmed skin and the faint scent of spicy citrus.

“What do you think? Good progress, huh?”

She had no idea what work went into refurbishing a sailboat, but she recalled her uncle’s sloop and thought the cutter looked in good shape. “It looks great. What’s left to do?”

“Install the mast, repair the mainsail and finish the painting. Another week and it’ll be finished. That gives me more than a week to sail her and see how she does.”

The thought set her on edge, but she hid her discomfort. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“How about coming along? I’ll have her out a couple days first. We could take her out a week from Saturday. What do you say?”

She lowered her eyes, wishing with all her heart she could say yes. She remembered the wonderful feeling of being out on the water, the wind in her hair, the sun warming her skin. “You know how I feel, Ian. Anyway, my sister’s birthday party is that day.”

“Oh,” he said, with disappointment echoing in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Ian.” To her surprise, Esther meant it.

Perspiration rolled down his face, and he pulled off his spectacles and wiped moisture from the bridge of his nose with his handkerchief.

Esther fixed her gaze on his handsome face, usually hidden behind the heavy glasses. His sculpted nose looked unburdened and the deep blue of his eyes shone with more brilliance.

He grinned, and two dimples winked at her before he slid the glasses back on. “One day I’m getting contacts. I hate these things…especially in summer.”

“You look good without those heavy frames hiding your face,” Esther said before she could harness her words. “I’m sorry. That sounded rude. You’re nice looking with them, too.” No matter what she said she dug herself in deeper. She’d become tactless when it came to social conversation. Life seemed easier in the library, where she felt comfortable and competent with her work.

“Listen,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard what she’d said, “how about Sunday? You usually don’t work on Sunday.” He searched her eyes. “Right?”

She nodded.

“I’d really like to show you how safe sailing can be.” His eyes pleaded with her.

“I promise,” he continued, “we’ll stay close to shore, and at any sign of clouds I’ll bring you right back to port. Now, there’s an offer you can’t refuse.”

His plaintive tone made her laugh. “Maybe sometime…when you put it that way.” She hesitated, wondering why she had even thought about saying yes. A prayer shuffled through her, asking God for direction. “Let me think about it, okay?”

“Okay. That’s better than no.”

His look melted her heart, but she tempered her desire to change her mind and accept his invitation. “You’ve done a nice job with the cutter. I’m sure you’ll enjoy sailing her.”

He nodded, but his look left her feeling responsible for his gloom.

“How about lunch?” he asked.

“Only if I pay.”

His face paled, then he recovered. “Is that the only way you’ll have lunch with me?” A boyish smile inched across his face.

“That’s right,” she said, feeling herself weaken with each plea.

“Okay. This time,” he said finally.

This time.
The words hung in the air, then slithered down her spine like ice water. What was she doing? She’d spent the past ten years accepting her single life. Ian was prying at her conviction with every gentle smile.

She needed to protect herself. She needed to stay away from Ian.

Ian closed Philip Somerville’s door and headed for his office. His head ached, and he wondered why the owner of Bay Breeze had asked him to research the possibility of adding a fleet of charter boats to the resort.

Thinking back, he recalled that Philip had asked him to do research once before—investigate local resorts to identify the amenities they offered. At the time, he’d felt as if Philip were trying to play matchmaker, pushing him and Jemma Dupre together. To his utter embarrassment, Jemma had rejected him from the word go and soon after, to many people’s surprise, she’d become Philip’s wife. Yet despite their age difference—the crux of Philip’s problem—they appeared to be a happy and well-suited couple.

Facing his new assignment, Ian knew he might have jumped at the research job three weeks earlier. Then he’d known exactly where he could go for help…but since Esther had declined his boating invitation with more than a cold shoulder, he hesitated to ask for her service.

Her service.
That was it. If Esther wanted to run a research business, she should be willing to work with him on this project. She couldn’t turn down business. Or could she?

He pressed his finger between his eyes to soothe his headache. Jarring his frames, he pulled off his glasses and eyed them. Esther’s voice sailed into his thoughts.
You look good without those heavy frames hiding your face.
He hadn’t responded, but he knew she was right. He’d been saying it for years. He
needed contacts. Sliding on his spectacles, he hurried into his office and made a note to himself. Call the optometrist.

Dropping the memo pad onto the desk, he sank into his chair and thought about Esther. What had created the distance he sensed when he spoke to her? Sailing? She’d made it clear she didn’t sail. But he’d hoped to change her mind—show her what pleasure she could have if the captain used common sense.

Common sense? If he had any, he’d find someone else to do the research for him. He rose, crossed the room and lifted the yellow pages from a bookshelf, deciding he’d use his head and find another research company.

Back at his desk, he opened the cover and slid his finger along the index. Research. Laboratories See Chemists…no. He moved his finger down the list. Economic Research and Analysis. Educational Research. Information Search and Retrieval. Could that be it?

He found the page and skimmed the listings. He grazed past the businesses until his focus fell on Esther Downing Research Services. He closed his eyes, his pride rearing in his head. Could he bear another rejection?

Closing the phone book, Ian pulled her business card from his wallet and gazed at the number. He knew she would still be at the library. Should he leave a message on her answering machine? That seemed safest. If she returned his call, the choice would be hers.

He punched in the number and waited as it rang. Hearing the click, he listened for her message.

“Esther Downing Research Services. May I help you?”

He felt his jaw drop, and he caught his breath. “Esther?”

“Yes,” she said, the word fading. Did she recognize his voice?

“This is Ian. I thought I’d get your machine.” He rubbed the nape of his neck to relieve the fresh tension.

“Ian…I thought it was you.”

The line was weighted with silence.

“I’m off today,” she said finally.

Business call, Ian reminded himself. “I wondered if you’d have time for a research project. Philip Somerville, who owns Bay Breeze, asked me to study the possibility of buying or contracting a fleet of charter boats for the resort.”

Silence.

Ian cleared his throat. “I need advice. Someone who knows the right questions to ask and where to find the answers. I thought of you…naturally.”

A sigh fluttered over the line. “I’m working on a big project at the moment. When do you need the information?”

When? Philip hadn’t mentioned a time line. Ian closed his eyes and thought. “I don’t suppose he’s expecting a completed project this tourist season. When will you be available?”

Papers rustled over the wire and he waited. “Next week, I suppose,” she said. “If that won’t work, I can refer you to another research service.”

“No,” Ian said, nearly cutting her off, “a week is fine. Should we set up an appointment?” Appointment. The word sounded cold and unfriendly.

“How about a week from Tuesday? Evening. Let’s say seven o’clock.” Her voice was charged with business.

“Seven’s fine. Thanks.” What could he do to soften her tone…to bring back the Esther he’d admired for the past year? More than admired, if he faced the truth. “By the way, did you enjoy the birthday party?”

Silence.