No Shadow (Prodigal Sons of Cane) (7 page)

***

Helen had been hoping that Andrew
would back down.

They’d ended
the previous night on much better terms than before. As she’d left, the look in
his eyes had held both warmth and a soft wistfulness she’d found unbearably
appealing.

She knew him to
be an intelligent man who appreciated books and learning, and she’d thought
he’d see reason regarding the manuscript if she could just make her case—show
him Bale’s importance to literary scholarship and why the collection at Cane
College was the only appropriate home for the manuscript.

But he hadn’t
backed down. Hadn’t been convinced. Instead, he’d challenged her with those
level gray eyes and the stern set to his jaw.

It felt like a
kick in the gut.

Andrew was a
strong man with a strong will, and obviously he wouldn’t be easily turned from
his purpose. It was all very frustrating.

Helen was
starting to like him, but she’d wanted the manuscript for so long.

They searched
the piles of old papers in silence for several minutes after the confrontation.
They both looked over every stack, with an unspoken agreement that they
wouldn’t keep anything they found to themselves.

When Helen had
calmed down, she said, because she wanted to change the subject and because she
was really interested, “How is Melissa?”

“Good,” he
said, the tension on his face relaxing at the new topic. “She was really tired
this morning, but she’s fine.”

“It wasn’t too
much for her, was it? I’d feel terrible if—“

“No, no. She’s
just not used to so much activity. She rested this morning and took the dog for
a walk this afternoon—as far as the little guy could go.” Andrew’s mouth had
softened into a slight smile, making him incredibly attractive.

“She can take
walks?” Helen hoped she wasn’t being too nosy.

“Just on the
grounds. She won’t leave them, and she’ll never go out if there’s anyone else
around.”

Helen put aside
a pile of letters that were written at the beginning of the twentieth century.
They were probably quite fascinating, but she couldn’t take the time to read
them this evening.

After she’d worked
up the courage, she asked carefully, “If you don’t mind my asking, how long has
she been this way?”

Andrew didn’t
look affronted by the question. Just matter-of-fact. “Ten years. Since she was
fourteen.” They’d made it through one box, so he pushed it aside and pulled the
second one closer.

Helen spoke
softly, since she suspected Andrew would prefer Thomas not overhear the
personal conversation. “Do you know what triggered her…her condition?”

He shook his
head and lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. He did that a lot, she
noticed. His neck muscles were probably tight. He had too much stress in his
life, and no one to really help him with it.

The thought
made her chest feel kind of heavy.

“I have no
idea. I wasn’t around then. I was twenty-five and already in D.C., but our mom
had no clue what happened. It wasn’t all at once. Melissa became shyer than
she’d been as a child. Then she got skittish in social situations. Then she
became a definite homebody. And then she just wouldn’t leave the house. I’ve
asked everyone who knew her back then, and I’ve begged her to tell me if there’s
something that she’s never told anyone. She says there’s nothing. I just don’t
know why this happened.”

He closed his
eyes as he stopped talking, and he looked so exhausted and burdened that
Helen’s heart went out to him.

She wondered if
he’d intended to say as much as he had. She wondered who he had to confide in.

“So when your
mother died, you volunteered to take care of her?” Helen spoke delicately, not
wanting to make him uncomfortable or close down the conversation.

Andrew looked
at her again and gave a half-shrug. “She trusts me. Geoff has such hard hours
as a doctor, plus his own daughter he’s now raising alone. And Michael…”

Helen wondered
why he’d trailed off and whether the youngest Cane brother was another source
of worry and stress for Andrew.

“What else
could I do?” he concluded, looking at a spot on the opposite wall.

“Maybe,” Helen
said, her voice textured with the surge of tenderness she was feeling, “But a
lot of men wouldn’t have done it.”

He looked over
at her then, and their eyes met and lingered.

His expression
was almost aching.

He needed
someone, she realized. He’d been alone with his responsibilities for too long.
He took such loving, committed care of Melissa and anyone else in his sphere of
influence, but no one took care of him.

He needed a
church family for support and encouragement, and he needed a wife to love him.

Recognizing the
direction of her thoughts, Helen jerked her eyes away from their shared gaze.

What was wrong
with her? Andrew would be the most eligible man in any room he walked into. And
she’d be the biggest fool on the planet if she let herself hope in that
direction.

Trying to rid
herself of those dangerous thoughts, she concentrated instead on the old
papers. She made quick work of the pile she was sorting, since most of them
were centuries-old newspapers. If she’d had more time, they would have been fun
to flip through, but they couldn’t take up too much of Thomas’s time.

Standing up,
she brushed herself off. Then noticed a smudge on her top and tried to rub it
off. She should have dressed in grubbier clothes this evening, but she’d wanted
to wear something pretty and flattering.

She knew,
although she didn’t want to admit it, that she’d chosen her outfit because Andrew
would be here tonight. She’d worn her glasses instead of contacts as a
last-ditch effort to convince herself she wasn’t dressing up for Andrew.

She bent over
to grab the last pile of papers from the second box.

She had to
reach down far and, as she was lifting the pile, she felt something skitter up
her arm. Glancing down automatically, she saw a big spider crawling on her
forearm.

She squealed
and flung the spider away, jumping back in an awkward retreat from the box. She
stumbled and would have fallen had Andrew not jumped up to catch her from
behind.

His reflexes
were impressive, and his arms around her were strong and unyielding. She gasped
for a moment, trying to orient herself.

She was acutely
conscious of how big he was. How masculine in his jeans and black t-shirt. How
fluttery she felt when he held her this way.

Realizing what
she was feeling, she pulled out of his arms. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Thanks. Big
spider.”

She was too shy
to look him in the eye, but she managed to shape a smile. When Andrew calmly
volunteered to check the box for any more lurking spiders, she agreed
gratefully.

Andrew didn’t
appear to be affected by their close encounter, and she shouldn’t be surprised
or disappointed by that fact. She was getting very silly ideas, so she started
to give herself a firm lecture on being sensible and realistic.

Life wasn’t a
fairytale. Her whole life, she’d been overlooked by any man she’d ever been
interested in.

A prince—even
one as burdened and conflicted as Andrew—would never, ever choose her.

Andrew went
upstairs to check on Melissa before he left the house on Sunday morning. His
sister was reading her Bible in the window seat, which had turned out to be her
favorite spot.

She looked up
when he entered, her eyes scanning over his neat clothes and the Bible he
carried. “Hey. I’m so glad you’re going to church this morning.”

He’d made the
decision last night, and he’d told Melissa—mostly so he couldn’t back out at
the last moment. With a fond smile, he said, “No need to make a big deal.”

Despite his
words, it felt like a big deal. He’d been to church regularly for the last
couple of years, but he’d visited different churches around the D.C. area and
he’d never settled into one for real.

It wasn’t
because he hadn’t been able to find churches he was comfortable in. Rather, he
still felt skittish about making a public commitment, after having forsaken his
faith for so long and still lacking that peace he needed.

He knew going
to First Church this morning was significant. He’d been feeling the inner
prompting to go for the two weeks he’d been in Cane, but he was nervous about
it. He was used to being in control—of his business, of the details of his
life, of the social circles he moved in—and he was having trouble dealing with
his anxiety.

He refused to
be a coward, though, especially about something so important. So he wasn’t
going to change his mind this morning.

“I don’t know
why you’re so hesitant,” Melissa said, studying him closely.

He gave a
half-shrug, having trouble explaining it to himself, much less his sister. “I
don’t know either. It just feels like a big step.”

“You never used
to be afraid of expressing your faith.”

She was right. “It’s
different now. So much has changed. I’m so many years from what I was then.”

Melissa gave
him a tentative smile. “Well, I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”

Andrew figured
she was right. While they might be curious about his reappearance, no one would
look at him askance or condemn him for falling away as he had.

“So you’ll
bring Helen home with you for lunch?” Melissa prompted.

“I’ll ask her.
I can’t promise she’ll come.”

“Well, don’t
let her make up an excuse, just because she feels awkward about the
manuscript.”

“I said I would
ask her.”

Andrew felt
rather awkward too, and he wished he hadn’t agreed to invite Helen over to
lunch for his sister.

Melissa
sniffed. “Just because she’s mad at you doesn’t mean she and I can’t be
friends.”

“She’s not mad
at me,” he said, immediately bristling. When Melissa looked like she wanted to
giggle, he added sheepishly, “At least, not always.”

He and Helen
had argued again as they’d finished sorting through the documents in the
Harrison attic—a task that had turned up nothing of interest to either one of
them. She’d brought up the library collection again, which naturally led to a
terse debate about a suitable home for
Shadow Past
.

Andrew found
the whole encounter confusing and disorienting—to clash so vigorously with her
even after he’d opened up to her more than he had with anyone else in years.

But the truth
was he wanted to see Helen again, even if all they did was fight.

***

“I’m not saying I like him now,”
Helen insisted as she and Lorraine filed into the pew she always sat in near
the front of the First Church sanctuary. “Just that there’s more to him than I
originally thought.”

Lorraine arched
her eyebrows and sat down, smoothing out her stylish gray slacks. “I see.”

“I don’t think
you do. You’re making it sound like I
really
like him.” Helen frowned at
her friend sternly. They were speaking in low voices so they wouldn’t be
overheard and so they wouldn’t disturb the other church members who had arrived
early to Sunday morning worship.

“Don’t you?”

“Of course not.
Don’t be ridiculous. He’s stubborn and obnoxious.”

“Well, at least
he’s no longer snotty.”

Despite her
defensiveness, Helen couldn’t help but smile too. There was no sense in getting
riled up at Lorraine. She teased a lot, but it all was grounded in genuine
affection. “Yeah, I guess he’s not. He’s not really arrogant like I thought at
first. He’s just reserved with his feelings. Like he holds himself back. He’s
under a ton of pressure, so he’s probably not able to relax much—emotionally, I
mean.”

“You seem to
know him pretty well. And you still claim not to like him?”

To Helen’s
annoyance, she felt herself blushing slightly, but she stuck out her chin to
show her resolve. “Not that way. He’s stubborn and obnoxious.”

Lorraine appeared
to be hiding a smile.  “You already said that.”

“Well, it bears
repeating. And I can’t figure out why he still insists on buying the manuscript
when it obviously belongs at the library.”

“Maybe he has
good reason to want the manuscript. Have you ever asked him?”

Helen wanted
to, but the idea made her very uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure why. “It just
seems so pushy and presumptuous, since we’re on opposite sides of the issue.
Besides, the manuscript isn’t the only problem. I’d be a sorry fool if I let
myself dream of Andrew Cane.”

“Why?” Lorraine
looked genuinely curious, as if she didn’t see the obvious obstacles.

“Just think
about him,” Helen said, conjuring up a mental image of handsome, successful, extraordinary
Andrew Cane. “He can have any woman he wants.”

Lorraine
shrugged. “So why wouldn’t he want you?”

Helen had no
good answer to that question. She was just sure that he wouldn’t.

It wasn’t that
she was unworthy. She knew herself to be smart, generally good-natured,
interesting, and fairly attractive. But she was also used to men not
recognizing whatever appeal she possessed.

At least, not
the men she wanted.

She hadn’t
dated in four years. She’d never dated very much, and it wasn’t because she
wasn’t interested in dating, marrying, and starting a family. For whatever
reason, men had simply never beaten down her door to offer her those things, so
she’d learned not to expect any man she was interested in to return the feeling.

In the past,
she’d entertained daydreams about strong, handsome, captivating Christian men
falling in love with her, and she’d been hurt and disappointed over and over
again when she was overlooked or ignored.

She knew better
now.

“Helen?” Lorraine
prompted softly. More people were filing into the pews, although the prelude
hadn’t yet started.

Helen shook off
her sober thoughts. “All of it this is irrelevant anyway,” she murmured. “He’s
shown me no interest at all. He spends half the time glaring at me as if he
wants to give me a good shake.”

“And the other
half of the time?”

She suddenly
pictured the appealing softness she’d seen in Andrew’s eyes at times. The warm
humor. The endearing wistfulness. She felt herself blushing again.

“Ah ha!”

“Don’t you
dare. I’m telling you. We’ve known each other for two weeks, and he’s made not
the slightest advance. He’s not interested.”

“All right,” Lorraine
said, raising her hands as if in surrender. “I believe you. But two weeks isn’t
that long. Maybe he’s still figuring things out.”

Helen couldn’t
let herself hope. She’d been down that road before, and she already knew that Andrew
had the potential to hurt her. A lot.

As the pianist
began the prelude, she tried to clear her mind of the clutter of worries and
distractions and prepare herself for worship.

A few minutes
later, she felt Lorraine’s hand on her arm. When Helen opened her eyes, Lorraine
nodded over toward the far side of the sanctuary.

Helen
experienced a deep swelling of excited confusion.

Andrew was
striding down the side aisle, his expression calm, almost stoic. When the
gathering congregation broke into a quiet flurry of interest at his appearance,
he made no show of noticing. He wore black trousers and a green dress shirt,
and he looked both masculine and sophisticated. As she fought against her
jittery exhilaration, she thought maybe he also looked a little stiff.

She wondered if
he was nervous about being here after so many years.

Her fluttery
confusion settled into a peace shaped by joy. Her own feelings—as unsettling as
they were—were not nearly as important as the significance of his presence here
today. She knew it was important, an obvious step in the right direction.

She looked
forward before he caught her staring at him. Then closed her eyes again and
thanked God.

***

Attending church wasn’t as
awkward as Andrew was afraid it would be.

While he was
aware of quite a few stares as he arrived, he didn’t let it concern him. Cane
was a small town, and most people knew everyone else.

A member of the
Cane family simply couldn’t walk into First Church out of the blue without
causing a bit of a stir.

Once the
service began, he relaxed and tried to focus, reminded of how he’d felt when he
sat in this sanctuary as a boy.

Pastor Jack was
an articulate and engaging preacher, and Andrew enjoyed the sermon. Every now
and then, however, something about the way Jack framed an issue or told a joke
reminded Andrew vividly of the man’s daughter.

Helen was
across the sanctuary, seated a few rows in front of him. He made himself not
stare at her, but he was occasionally conscious of a pair of blue eyes glancing
back to look at him.

He wondered
what she thought of his appearance here this morning.

The final hymn
was an old favorite, “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” For some reason, he felt his
throat close as he tried to sing through the first verse.

He had not been
faithful. For too many years, he’d tried to act as if God didn’t exist, as if
He had no claim or power over his life. He’d done things he never should have
done.

But, with God,
there was no shadow of turning.

Andrew had to
stop singing. He stared down at the page of the hymnal.

He was stuck.
He knew it. He desperately wanted the peace and bright hope promised in the
last verse of the hymn, but he couldn’t bring himself to claim it completely,
couldn’t believe he was worthy.

On the final
chorus, he lowered the hymnal and raised his head. Instinctively, he glanced
over toward Helen and caught her gazing at him.

There was
something tender and understanding in her expression that cracked the clenched
fist of his heart. He wondered if she was praying for him. Wondered how he
could possibly deserve it.

By the time
Pastor Jack spoke the benediction, Andrew had basically recovered his
composure.

He obviously
had a long way to go, but he was glad he’d made the effort to come here today.

He stood in his
row as the congregation was dismissed. He greeted some people he knew but
didn’t linger for any long conversations. He knew Helen was talking to a few
friends across the aisle. He should go over and ask her to lunch with his
sister, but he couldn’t bring himself to move yet.

With relief, he
saw Pastor Jack make his way over toward him with a welcoming smile. “Andrew.
Good to see you.”

“It’s good to
be here.”

“How does it
feel to be back?” Jack asked. His expression was friendly but his eyes were
astute and observant.

“Kind of weird,
if you want to know the truth.”

“It’s never
easy—coming back. But it’s always worth it.”

Andrew knew
Jack wasn’t talking about returning to his hometown or even his childhood
church. “I know you’re right,” he admitted, “I just can’t seem to…to get there
all the way.”

Jack smiled, an
expression almost as warm and compassionate as his daughter’s. “Come talk to me
sometime. Maybe I can offer you a hand.”

“Thanks.” As
always, conversation that was too private, too deeply about his own heart, left
Andrew feeling rather uncomfortable. But, to his own surprise, he intended to
take Pastor Jack up on the invitation.

He didn’t want
to live his life in a holding pattern, too afraid to take the final step back
to God.

Suddenly, he
was conscious of a presence behind him. Even before he looked over his shoulder,
he knew Helen was back there, waiting at a distance so as not to intrude on a
private conversation.

Jack gave his
daughter a broad smile. “Helen, come on over. You know Andrew.” He turned
amused eyes back to him. “She has the worst habit of lurking in the shadows.”

“I do not lurk,”
Helen argued, her outrage so exaggerated it was obvious she was teasing. “There
are things called discretion and sensitivity which you would do well to
cultivate.”

Jack laughed
heartily, and Andrew couldn’t help but smile.

But he also
thought about Jack’s words. In some ways, Helen
did
like to linger in
the shadows, avoiding the center of attention, letting very few people see how
creative and clever and passionate she really was.

Andrew
remembered the first time he’d seen her, radiant in the vibrant, slanting light
of the late afternoon.

Helen didn’t
belong in the shadows. She belonged in the sun.

***

Helen was surprised when Andrew
asked her to lunch, even though he quickly clarified that the invitation had
come from Melissa.

Not for a
moment had Helen suspected he was asking her on a date, but she still felt kind
of fluttery at the request.

It was so hard
to be sensible and realistic about romantic notions regarding Andrew when he
was standing beside her, looking so adorably grave and asking her to come home
with him for lunch.

Since she’d
walked to church this morning, he offered to drive her over to his house, and
Helen couldn’t help but wonder what her friends and acquaintances thought when
she climbed into Andrew’s expensive SUV.