Unspoken (25 page)

“Bryce, accept the apology. I should have called. I’m simply not used to having someone beyond Ellie or John when problems have to be sorted out.”

He glanced at her, then smiled. “Apology accepted.”

“There’s not much that can be done about the book, but my present name will stay out of it.”

“That’s a big step.”

“Gage and I have reached an understanding, I think. He’s asked me to read what he writes, comment if I wish, or not, as I choose.”

“Not what I was expecting.”

“Nor I, but probably smart on his part. If he’d asked me for an interview, I would have said no, so he simply avoided the question.” She glanced over. “I haven’t spoken with Tabitha. I’m going to let her decide when and if she wants to discuss this.”

“That’s generous of you.”

“She’s got a right to say whatever she would like. She’s the extrovert of the two of us. She processes pain by talking about it. I guess I’m only surprised she didn’t do this years ago. Gage
said she’s not talking about the conversations the two of us have had.”

“You’re still protecting her, Charlotte, even in how you talk about her decisions.”

“An older sister’s prerogative.” She pushed her hands into her coat pockets. “I came to tell you I’ll be at Graham Enterprises for the foreseeable future. I need to get clear of the estate. I need to be mobile again, in case a problem crops up.”

“I can accelerate the timetable for buying the rest of the coins and clearing the vaults.”

“Where you can. I’ve still got storage units to clear.”

“Are you going to change your name?”

“If it becomes necessary. I gave John a new one. Not Charlotte this time, so I’m hoping the step isn’t required. I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

“One of your first real decisions for yourself after it was over was your choice of a new name.”

She glanced over at him, surprised he understood how important it had been, having that choice. “Yes. Helped more than a little by John’s assurance that he liked the name Charlotte.”

“A good friend to have.” He put his arm around her, gave her a hug. “Are you okay?”

“No, but I’ll figure out how to be. The publicity around the book will be a problem, not to mention its release.”

“Ellie will come up with a plan.”

Charlotte laughed. “A good one. I’m counting on her. John and Ellie make it possible to take a punch like this and still survive.”

“Let me know how I can help.”

“I will. Thanks for that, Bryce.”

They reached the coffee shop, and he held the door for her. He’d help her get through this, however she would let him help. It was going to be a difficult book to read when it was finished.
How much of it would be information he knew, how much would be new? The book would be facts, speculation, and whatever the reporter could get others to say. Her history, out there for anyone to read for the price of the book. It hurt, knowing that was coming. And he wished it was over rather than looming out there ahead of her.

T
he early signs of spring began to chase away the snow. Bryce hauled yet another load from the vault back to Chicago. The coins were selling at a price and pace that would make business for the last year the best in his lifetime. He was doing his best to enjoy it. His personal life might be on hold, but his professional one was coming together. The profits were strong, and the document for selling Bishop Chicago to Devon and Sharon was now on his desk.

The calendar days till the will deadline had fallen to ninety-two. He had resigned himself to the wait. John said Charlotte was still thinking about it. Ellie told him it had always been part of the plan for a contingency in case of a last-minute yes, that at thirty days left she would begin preparing for that possibility.

It wasn’t Charlotte’s style, though, to run things to a last-minute decision. Bryce had accepted reality. It simply might not be possible for her to get comfortable with saying yes. It seemed likely the time was going to run out with her decision remaining no.

Ninety-two days. When did the point of diminishing time indicate it was a no that would not change? Should he have a conversation with her again before they reached that point,
or let Charlotte decide if and when the topic was brought up? He wanted to handle this with grace, and he wasn’t sure what that might look like. God had taught him a lot about himself these last few months. He did not easily wait. He was learning patience above all else.

Charlotte was going to need a husband with a lot of patience, for much of what she needed to talk about if she was ever going to heal were events she had yet to say a word about. He wanted to help her heal—her relationship with God, the scars of what had happened. The patience to have the conversations when she was ready for them would matter more than anything else he might be able to give her. It might be five years, ten, before she ever gave him the first opening to talk about it—but he wanted to get them to those conversations. He wanted to help her heal.

The reasons he hoped she would say yes to his proposal had been shifting over the months. He wanted her to have a choice regarding the money, and at a deeper level he wanted to protect her from getting hurt again, wanted to help her reclaim some of what she’d missed in life. But under those a richer level was forming now. He simply didn’t want her to be alone anymore.

She had good friends in John and Ellie, but at the heart of it Charlotte was very much alone. Her family situation with her sister was ruptured and difficult to restore. She lived life alone, thinking that protected her best. Maybe it did. Maybe staying single was necessary to cope with what had happened. But Bryce ached at that reality.

He wanted her to say yes so she wouldn’t be alone any longer. He wanted to help her deal with what had happened if she would let him. He wanted to be part of her life, and close enough to really matter. He hoped she would say yes, and couldn’t help but worry she was going to say no. He had come to the same
conclusion as Ellie. Charlotte getting married was in her own best interest.

Bryce accepted the change and the hot dogs and walked back to rejoin Charlotte at the bench by the fountain. She declined another one, so he ate them both. The park and ball diamonds were busy today. An early break in the weather and the taste of spring had everyone finding reasons to be outside. It was too early in the year for the kids’ league to officially begin, but the boys were playing a practice game, and his nephew was in left field.

He was fascinated at the speed with which Charlotte formed a sketch. “Do you think about what you’re doing or does your hand just move?”

“It’s kind of like typing, when your fingers are moving as fast as your thoughts. The sketches are like that, simply motion I’m capturing as figures move around.”

“But you get the image right the first time, the perspective, the details.”

“I’m just drawing what I see. When you look across at the ball field, most of that image is a constant. The landscape, the sky, the ball field, the bleachers—all are a constant that don’t move. Even the parents mostly stay in their chosen spots. The boys on the field are stationary until the ball goes into play. Once I see all the things that don’t move, I simply focus on watching the few things that do.”

“This is what you enjoy doing most in life.”

She glanced over at him. “It’s simply my day job, Bryce. I sketch. I’m fortunate enough to also make a decent living from it.”

“That isn’t going to change, whatever your decision. Money or not, married or not, the art will stay part of your days.”

“I know. It’s been useful to realize that.”

Bryce watched her finish the sketch and turn the page. “Ellie said something yesterday that bothered me quite a bit. She said you’d see yourself being a failure as a wife.” Her hand holding the pen stilled. “We don’t need to talk about it, Charlotte, other than for you to hear from me that it would not be true. You’ll be my wife. I won’t let anyone, you included, qualify that. My wife. I’m the only one that gets to put an adjective with the title.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

She looked away. “I’ve got an image for ‘be a good wife,’ the same as you have for ‘be a good husband.’ I’m not going to come close to being the person those words describe.”

“I know who you are, Charlotte. I want the person I see, not the one you think you should be.”

She didn’t offer a reply. Bryce saw his sister coming around the stands toward them. “Should I cut Josephine off at the pass? Redirect her—?”

“There’s no need. I like your sister.”

Bryce rose to give his sister a hug, then let her share the bench with Charlotte. He walked down to the backstop as his nephew came up to hit. Jo had probably saved him from saying the wrong thing. He understood why guys didn’t bring up the subject of marriage until they knew the lady would say yes when asked. This waiting for an answer was extraordinarily difficult. He forced himself to put his attention on the game. It didn’t stay there. He glanced back to where the women were talking.

Charlotte was going to say no.

It was time to begin to accept that.

It was time to start planning the dinner for the day after.

Maybe it would be better if she did say no to the money so the day after he could ask her again to be his wife. He was content with the woman. The words
I love you
didn’t seem to fit, but maybe it was for him the slow progress of time. She
mattered to him, more than he could figure out how to define. Money or not, he was coming to the conclusion he didn’t want her leaving his life.

But if a fortune couldn’t convince her to say yes, how would he ever get her to say yes? He pondered that issue while he watched the boys play, and felt a sadness build. If she said no to marrying him, said no to the money, he would need more than a plan. He would need a miracle. The proposal in play was realistically the only chance he was going to get with her.

She’s so scared of getting married, God, and what am I supposed to do about that?

He glanced back when he heard her laugh, smiled as he saw his sister lean over to give her a hug. His family adored her.
Just say yes, Charlotte, and put me out of my misery.
He wanted her to take a risk on him. He wouldn’t let her ever regret that decision.

Boys cheered as a run was scored, and Bryce looked back to the game in play. It was going to be difficult to hear her
no
. He had to be prepared to handle it. He didn’t want her memory of that moment to be
He took the news badly
. Bryce closed his eyes and then pushed the doubts away. He’d deal with whatever came, and he’d do it with some class. The deadline was looming. He’d have his answer soon enough.

B
ryce pulled into his drive, watched the garage door open for him. He braked short of entering, sending the dry-cleaning bag on the hook behind his seat swaying. Charlotte was sitting on the front steps of his home. She hadn’t said she was coming by. The tension coiled through him like a fist. He left his briefcase on the front seat, paused only to engage the locks, and walked around the sidewalk to meet her. He forced his voice to stay light. “I need to get you a key.” He sat down beside her on the steps.

“I wouldn’t have stayed inside today anyway—the weather’s too nice. It’s been a good day to draw.”

She offered the sketchbook. He had caught the fact that when Charlotte offered the sketchbook, it was more than a courtesy. It was an invitation to share her day. Charlotte lived her life capturing the things she enjoyed on paper. If you wanted into her life, you wanted to see the sketches. He slowly turned pages, surprised to see most were flowers, a few were kids playing, the one he’d interrupted was a block scene—his block. He was still floored by the technical skill she had working freehand. “You’ve been sitting here awhile.”

She inclined her head. “A little while.”

He returned the sketchbook.

She slid it in her tote bag, then looked over at him. “I’ll marry you, Bryce. I don’t know if it’s best for you, but I accept the reality that a yes is necessary.”

He hadn’t expected his relief to be so strong. “Thank you.” She looked so incredibly serious, and he wondered at the weight of nerves she had wrapped in that calm, straightforward statement. He settled an arm around her shoulders and hugged her lightly. He had so braced himself for a no, it took a few moments for the yes to become more than a word.
She’s said yes
.

He dropped a kiss on her hair. And felt her tremble just a bit. “I have something for you.” He tugged the ring out of his shirt pocket. There were better places than the front steps to his home, but he wasn’t risking the moment or what felt like a more than slightly fragile mood on her part. He reached for her left hand and slid the diamond ring onto her finger.

“It’s lovely,” she whispered, turning it so the diamond caught the sunlight.

“Tears are okay. I’ve got Kleenex stuffed in that pocket too.”

She half laughed and wiped her eyes with both palms. “When did you buy it?”

“Before I asked you to consider marrying me.”

“You were pretty sure of a yes.”

“No, but I had a lot of hope.”

She turned the ring and offered a slight smile. “You chose well.”

She glanced at him, looked away, bit her lip. “I’m afraid I have one hard thing to ask.”

He interlaced his fingers with hers, seeking to reassure. “One I’ll accept,” he promised. “What is it?”

“I want a church wedding, because it’s important to me to be married before God. But I don’t want anyone there. Not Ellie or John, not your family and friends. Just us.”

The request surprised him. He thought about it and his smile faded. “I think you would like Ellie there, John, but can’t ask that without being unfair to me. Do you want a private wedding because of why we are marrying? Or because eighteen years of staying out of the public eye means you don’t want the wedding announced and known?”

“Both.”

It saddened him to think about a wedding without his brothers as best men, without his parents in the first row, without his sisters and their families there.

“I know how difficult a thing this is I’m asking.”

“I understand the reason for it,” he replied quietly. She was embarrassed by the
why
of their marriage. She didn’t want to have to pretend in front of his family and friends, their guests, that the wedding was because they loved each other. It was reality, and the first ache of many he would need to absorb.

He took a deep breath, let go of what he had hoped. This situation wasn’t ideal, but he wasn’t going to make it harder on her than it had to be. He gently traced his hand down her cheek, turned her face toward him. She’d said yes. The rest was going to be what it needed to be. “What I’d like is for you to marry me, Charlotte,” he said softly, “with the people you know and trust, Ellie and John, standing with us, with a handful of photographs taken—you in a nice wedding dress and me in a tux that we can have on the mantel and I can have on my desk. I’ll talk to my parents, explain there are some security concerns, that we want to plan a celebration for later, where friends and family can take part—maybe on an anniversary sometime in the future.”

“They’ll accept that?”

“They will because I ask.”

She looked at him a long time, then said, “Thank you.”

He ruffled her hair and deliberately sought to lighten the
mood. “In a few years it’s not even going to be something anyone remembers, how we chose to marry.” He reached for both her hands and smiled. “This is a very nice day, Charlotte, one I plan to celebrate with you in a bit. Let’s get a few things sorted out. Would it be possible to get the rest of the estate—Graham Enterprises, the coins, the items the New York people are handling for you—finished before we get married?” He loved the sound of that last phrase.

She visibly relaxed with the practical question. “I’ve got only twenty-three storage units left,” she said. “The lawyers in New York are all but finished, and I’ve had the paperwork to sell the rest of Graham Enterprises to the employees on my desk for the last month. It’s just waiting for my signature.”

She was closer to having things concluded than he had realized. “I’ve still got about fifteen hundred individual coins to buy from you,” he said, “and a quarter of vault twenty-two remains to be cleared. If you can price the individual coins, I’ll raise syndicate money to buy them all now, then haul the coins from the vault. If I have to I can park a couple of trucks in secure storage until we’re ready to unload the coins at the prep room. ”

“A good plan,” she agreed. “It would be a huge weight lifted off me if the rest of the estate could be dealt with before we marry.”

Bryce wanted that clean slate with her. “Then let’s see if we can get that done. I’ll also make arrangements to sell controlling interest in Bishop Chicago to Devon and Sharon. We’ll both start our new life free and clear. We’ll finish the estate, get free of obligations, then have a private wedding. I’d like to talk to you about your thoughts on a honeymoon, but before we get to that, can I have your evening? In hopes you would say yes, I’ve got plans for us in mind.”

“Sure. I can go by Ellie’s and change.”

“You’re fine. I’m the one who needs to get to casual for the night.” He’d change and then he had a few phone calls to make.

Bryce didn’t tell her where they were going that evening, simply suggested she could leave the tote bag with her sketchbook at his place. He pulled into a parking lot via the alley to keep the suspense another few minutes. He shut off the engine and put his hand on her arm as she reached for the door. “Before we go in, I want to have a conversation about something, Charlotte.”

She turned to face him. “All right.”

“After you hear what I have to say, you’re welcome to ask me to drive around the block so we can talk about it a bit more before we go inside. I didn’t mean to catch you at the last minute with this. If I’d planned it better, I would have brought it up earlier this evening.”

She nodded and settled back in the seat. “I’ll ask for more time if I need it.”

He didn’t want to break the good mood of the last hour’s conversation, so he tried to choose his words with care. “The people here tonight will assume we’re getting married for the usual reason of being in love. There are only four people who know the will requires you to marry. ”

Her smile faded. “We had this conversation last fall.”

“What were words then becomes something practiced now. We’re going to spend the evening together as a couple, and at the center of attention. I don’t want to cross a line you’re uncomfortable with—”

Charlotte interrupted his words. “I push back, Bryce. I start feeling crowded or uncertain about a situation with you, I’m going to push you back, probably do it deftly so it doesn’t look like that to everyone else, but I guarantee you’ll get the message. Try not to startle me from behind. Don’t kiss me unless I agree
to it first, and probably don’t tease me or flirt too much.” She met his gaze, looked worried for a moment. “This is going to be awkward. I’m sorry. Neither of us wants the facts behind our marriage arrangement to be known, and I’ll do everything I can to keep up appearances.”

He winced a bit at her last statement. “Charlotte, I’m celebrating tonight. I
want
to marry you. I’m
delighted
you said yes. I’m going to enjoy every minute of this evening, and I want you to be able to do so as well. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I know I unintentionally might.” He was muddling this horribly. He reached for her hands and gave a rueful smile. “Relax with me. That’s what I meant to say, and what I’d like you to be able to do.”

He waited until he felt her hands relax. “This will be the toughest event for us to get in sync with each other, but once we’re through this, it will get easier. I’m worried that I might cross your line tonight and make this difficult for you, and I don’t want to do that. But if I mess up tonight, give me the benefit of the doubt. With some practice, I’ll get it right.”

Her hands tightened on his. “Okay.”

He caught her gaze and realized she had turned amused.

“We’re good, Bryce,” she promised. “Let’s go celebrate. And thanks for inviting our friends to join us. It’s a nice surprise. ”

He smiled. “Stay put while I come around for your door.”

He took her hand as they crossed the parking lot.

“What is this place?”

“Somewhere you and I will likely spend a lot of time after we’re married.”

Once inside, he took her jacket and directed her toward the corner table. The place was semi-packed, mostly with a neighborhood crowd. The smell of Italian food was rich in the air. “Charlotte, you remember Ann and Paul Falcon.”

“Of course.”

“Ellie and John will be here soon.”

She was glancing around with interest. “We’re playing pool?”

“Eating some food, playing a bit of pool. A little birdie told me you’re good at the game. This place is called
Cues
, and it’s a comfortable family-friendly place for spending an evening. I’m talking Paul into a rematch of darts since he won the last match. Devon and his wife, Sharon, are at the far table—I’ll introduce you shortly. My parents will be by later this evening, along with my sisters and their families. We’ll have the news spread before the night is over without making a big deal about it. Jackie is fixing us a special dessert. I told her we would head over to Falcons about eleven.”

“This is nice, Bryce. Really nice.”

“Just enjoy the evening. A low-key celebration. My preferred kind.”

“Mine too.” She squeezed his hand.

The two joined the family and friends Bryce had rounded up on the spur of the moment, and his quiet introductions of “my fiancée” drew smiles and friendly jests, laughter and hugs.

It was later, during his darts game with Paul, that he heard the first caution. His friend said softly, “You and Ruth Bazoni. Are you sure about this, Bryce?”

He let the dart fly, watched it hit the bull’s-eye. “I’m sure,” he said.

Bryce held the door for Charlotte, reached around her to turn on lights at his place. It was after midnight and he could feel the pleasant tiredness after an evening with friends and family.

“The evening was good—really good.” Charlotte let out a breath as she stepped out of her shoes. “But I’m glad it’s over and everyone knows.”

Bryce ran a comforting hand down her back. “The same. I’m getting us some coffee before I take you to Ellie’s.”

“I could use some.” She came into the kitchen with him.

“We’re going to have to come up with a different signal,” he mentioned. “You turned your ring all evening—did it again just now.”

She glanced at her hand. “I’m not used to wearing a ring. It’s going to take a while to get comfortable with it.”