After Will left with his parents, Christine hurried into her bedroom and slammed the door. She’d known he had a youthful manner, but he seemed mature and capable—wonderful really. But eleven years?
She sank onto the bed and held her face in her hands. Her dreams—dreams she wanted to dispel but dreams that had persisted—sagged like the surrealistic paintings of Dali’s drooping clocks. She’d be the laughingstock of everyone if they knew she’d finally given her heart to a man nearly young enough to be her son.
And she’d kissed him on the mouth. She felt mortified.
She wanted to talk to someone. She needed someone’s opinion. Ellene’s face soared into her mind. She pressed the buttons on her cell. If Ellene could come for a visit, if she could meet Will and see them together, if she could—The thought hung on the air as reality flew back in her face. This was temporary. She would be leaving in another month, and Will would be a memory.
Sadness flooded her. She didn’t want a memory. She wanted the impossible dream. Her thoughts wavered. Will had changed her. He’d been good for her and cared about her. Will’s career could be successful in the Detroit area. Better even. Maybe... Could she influence him to even consider moving back to Detroit?
The cell address book had darkened, and she hit the buttons again and this time pushed the call symbol.
When Ellene’s voice came on the line, Christine’s heart picked up pace. “I need you. Can you come for a visit?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything.” She rubbed her temple, not making sense out of anything. “I want you to meet Will. I need you to meet him. Ellene, I’m so confused. I feel so strongly about him, and we’ve only met. He’s different, and I want to know if this is just a shipboard romance or is it real.”
“It’s not shipboard,” Ellene said, laughter in her voice. “But you are stranded on an island and that can be dangerous. Just ask me.”
“That’s not funny, Ellene. Something in my heart tells me this is special.” She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling thunder beneath her palm. “Ask Connor if you can come up for a couple of days. Fly up. It’s not too expensive, and I’ll pay your way.”
“Shush. You don’t have to pay my way. Let me think.”
The line went silent except for Ellene’s breathing, and Christine’s pulse throbbing against the receiver.
“I was planning to call you,” Ellene said, “but maybe it would be more fun in person. I’ll check with Connor, but I don’t think he’ll mind at all. I’ll call you.”
“I’d be so grateful, Ellene. Truly. I know I sound like a babbling teenager, but it’s not that. It’s far from that. Today I feel very old.”
“Christine, what’s wrong with you? Look, I’ll tell Connor it’s an emergency.”
“You’re a dear friend,” Christine said.
“You, too. I’ll call back with the details.”
When the phone had disconnected, Christine sat staring into space, wondering how Will was faring with his family. She’d given up on making them dinner. They seemed very set on their plans, and she knew they didn’t include her, and she thought it was best. She hoped Will did, too.
He needed time with his parents. Maybe once they saw his studio—his store with so many wonderful gifts—they would realize he wasn’t a boy any longer.
Boy. The word zipped through her like a dart. No. He was a man. She’d spent more than two weeks with him, enjoying his company and seeing him as a peer. What was eleven years? Eleven years. She cringed at the question.
Will charged up the back steps, stomped into the hallway and slammed the door to his apartment. He took off his coat and flung it on the chair, then caved into the recliner, tilting it back and closing his eyes.
Fiasco.
He pictured the look on Christine’s face when she observed his parents and him in action. Shame filled him. The Bible said to honor his parents. He hadn’t, but he believed in his heart that he’d done what he had to do, and he prayed the Lord had led him in that direction. Yet it still bothered him.
One event had been a positive when—
A knock on his door drew his attention. He rose and answered it.
“Christine,” he said, searching her face. “Come in.”
She gave him a cautious grin and walked into the room as if she were uncomfortable.
He motioned toward a chair. “Have a seat.” He leaned over and snapped on the Christmas tree lights. Anything to remind him that this was a joyous time of year. “What’s up?”
She loosed a ragged sigh. “I just wondered how you fared today.”
He sank into the recliner. “I’m so sorry about the dinner. I didn’t think they’d be that rude, but by that time, I decided you’d be grateful not having to listen to any more of the tension.”
“I understand, Will.”
“They’re not bad people, Christine. I know they think they have only the best in their mind for me, but their best and mine are different.”
“I saw that.” She lowered her head.
“My father wanted me to follow in his footsteps. That’s typical of successful parents, and I tried. I went to business school for three years as I told you. Then I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s not what I wanted to do. I loved the arts. I knew God had given me a creative talent, but in the business administration field, it was mired by the wayside. I broke my father’s heart when I told him I was dropping out of University of Michigan and going to Creative Studies. He’s never accepted that decision.”
“But you have a business and an art career. You’ve accomplished both. I would think—”
“I know. It’s hard to understand. I should enjoy their visit, but it’s difficult when they’re so determined to force me back into their world.”
“Funny thing, Will, when I first came here—” She stopped in mid-sentence as if struggling for the words. “When I first came here, I felt the same way. At least, similar to them. I questioned why anyone with a right mind would want to live on the island.”
He leaned closer, wanting to make sure he’d really heard what she’d said. “Are you saying you feel differently now?”
She didn’t answer but studied him for a moment, a frown settling on her face as if she were fighting the thoughts. “For you, I do. You’re so suited to the island life.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. At least I know I have one person on my side.”
“Two. Grandma. She adores you.”
His eyes captured hers. “And you?”
“I—I admire you so much, Will. You’re a wonderful...man.”
She faltered, and he wondered if his parents’ constant references to boy and son caused her to see him in another way. “Thanks,” he said, trying to make his words sound real.
He gazed at her. Yes she was older, but not that much, he didn’t think. Yet it didn’t matter. He cared about her more than he could explain. Admiration wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Yes, her admiration was nice, and so was respect, but he wanted to be loved.
Christine broke the silence. “Was the whole time with them as stressed as it was here?”
“You mean my parents?”
“Yes. After you left, did it—”
“Get better? Yes. In fact, I was just sitting here thinking about it. When I showed them the store and my studio, both of them seemed to be knocked sideways. I don’t know what they thought I had here, but they were impressed. I could see my mother’s mental calculator adding the value of the large windows hanging in the store.”
Christine chuckled, and it sounded so good to him.
“My dad began grilling me about sales. I showed him my books. His eyes widened like an owl. I think the part that bothered him was the quiet winter. He began talking marketing. That part’s just not in me.”
“I know,” she said.
Will realized it was in her, and she’d mentioned wanting to talk with him about ideas. He hoped not tonight. He couldn’t bear to hear any more criticism right now. “How was your day?”
“Good. My friend Ellene is coming next Friday for the weekend. I think you’ll like her.”
“I’m glad she’s coming,” he said, not meaning it. He’d have to share her with someone for the weekend, and he wanted to keep her for himself.
“Are your parents leaving in the morning?” she asked.
“I thought about meeting them for brunch. They mentioned eating before they catch the early-afternoon ferry. They don’t go to church.”
“I wondered about that.”
“They attend church occasionally, but they don’t have the same kind of relationship with God that I have.”
“I guessed that from the conversation with Grandma.” She looked uneasy. “I’m afraid they don’t like me very much. Still, I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.”
“Then join us. I think my dad admired you. He’s hard to read, but remember, he thought you had brains—which is what I seem to lack.”
She grinned.
“Church service is early,” he said. “I’m not going to meet them until eleven. Please come with me.”
“I’ll talk with Grandma. Maybe I will if you’re sure they won’t mind.”
He didn’t really care if they did.
She rose and moved toward the door. “You need to rest. It’s been a difficult day, I know.”
Will stood and caught her hand, pulling her closer. She seemed to resist, then in the next moment relaxed in his arms. He didn’t want to push his luck. Will lowered his lips and kissed her temple. He sensed he should take it easy or risk driving her away. Had it been his parents’ behavior or something else that had created a new wedge between them?
“Are you sure they won’t be upset?” Christine climbed off Will’s sled and joined him as he headed into Sinclair’s.
“I think they’ll be fine,” he said, opening the door.
The sweep of heat washed over her as they entered.
“There they are,” Will said, pointing toward a table on the far side of the room.
His father noticed him and motioned to his wife. She looked up, a mixture of surprise and question on her face.
“We didn’t know if you were coming,” his father said, gesturing to the two extra chairs.
“I wasn’t sure if I would, but Christine wanted to say goodbye and so do I.”
“That’s thoughtful,” his mother said.
Christine tried to read a tone in her voice, but she didn’t hear one.
Mrs. Lambert turned to her. “I was rather impressed with Will’s business.”
The statement surprised Christine and opened the door for Christine’s thoughts. “Amazing, really. Will’s work is exquisite. He can price his work at a high rate because of the quality, and he’s innovative. Besides the stained-glass pieces, he’s created other art—jewelry and decorative plates and bowls—by fusing glass. I hope he showed them to you.”
She realized her mouth raced like a revving engine, and she caught her breath to let them respond.
Mrs. Lambert glanced at her husband, then Will. “Yes, I believe he did show us.”
“I brought out a few pieces,” Will said. “Mother particularly liked the fluted bowl in the shades of coral and pink. I think you saw that, didn’t you?”
Christine nodded. “Yes. It’s lovely. All of your work is.”
“You’re prejudiced.” He gave her a private look.
The waitress arrived with coffee and halted their conversation while she told them about the Sunday buffet. When she walked away, the conversation continued as if it had never stopped.
“I worry about the winter months. No income really.” His father pushed his coffee cup with his finger. “A man needs year-round work.”
“Dad, I told you I have a number of projects to complete for the holidays. People call me for custom orders, and when I’m not busy with those, I need the time to work on new stock for the summer. I do a tremendous business then.”
“Yes, I saw that,” he said, pulling his finger from the cup and leaning back in the chair as if calculating what he wanted to say next.
“Let’s check out the buffet,” Will suggested, standing and pulling out Christine’s chair as she rose.
His mother and father followed, and they went through the line selecting their breakfast fare. Will looked relieved that the earlier conversation had ended.
At the table, they spent quiet moments delving into the good food, with comments made about the various dishes and little else. When Will’s father pushed his plate back, he studied Christine. “Do you enjoy island life, Christine?”
The question surprised her, and she choked on her drink. “I think the island life is wonderful for some people.” She set her fork on the edge of her plate. “But I have mixed feelings for me, personally. My work is in Southfield.”
She looked at Will and weighed the question. “For Will this is a perfect setting. He has the winter’s quiet to prepare for the mass of tourists that arrive in May and stay until October. He loves it here. I can’t imagine him in another setting.” The words pained her, but she knew they were true. “Some of us can live in the city and thrive on the big corporations. Some prefer the small towns and can thrive as well. I wish—” What? She wished so many things.
Mr. Lambert eyed her. “You wish you had the stomach for island life?” The gaze drifted from her to Will, and she sensed he noticed the heated flush rising up her neck.
“I wish I didn’t have to cope with the stress of big-city life and still have the benefits.”
Mr. Lambert shook his head. “You’re an honest woman.”
“Will,” his mother said, drawing his attention, “I will admit that I’m impressed with your talent. I had envisioned your work so differently.”
Christine’s heart jumped, hearing his mother’s confession. She tried to listen to the private conversation, but his father caught her eye and leaned toward her in a conspiratorial manner. “We know Will has talent,” he said, speaking in a near whisper, “but we’d like him to stretch his wings in a more aggressive business style. Think of what he could do.”
She felt her face pull into a frown. She’d tried to suggest those things. “But that’s not what Will—”
“Wants,” his father said, completing her statement. “I know, but you’re a wise woman. My wife senses you have feelings for Will, and his life here and yours there—”
“I respect Will’s talent, and he’s a wonderful friend, but we barely know each other.”
“You’re a woman with some sense in her head. We think you could influence him to—”
Christine patted his arm to stop him. “I said I respect Will. That means I also respect his decision. I have no idea where our relationship could lead, but I know one thing for sure. If I really loved him, I would never drag him away from something this important to him. Then my love wouldn’t be true.”
His father’s eyes darkened. “This is more of your Bible talk, I suppose.”
Christine couldn’t help but smile. “Bible talk? That’s my grandmother. I came here like you, Mr. Lambert, a weak Christian.”
He drew back, his brows lifting.
“I’m sorry for being honest.” She glanced to make sure Will’s attention was on his mother. It was, and she returned to her private dialogue. “Yes, it’s in the Bible, but I mean what I say. I rarely went to church. I was a title Christian.”
His frown deepened.
Christine didn’t let that stop her. “Will has a deep faith, as does my grandmother, and recently I heard her description of love, and I went to the Word and studied it for myself because I needed to know the truth. Love is not self-seeking. It keeps no record of wrongs. Love protects and hopes and trusts.” She looked at Will’s father. “I trust Will. I trust that he knows what he’s doing. If you love him, you will, too.”
He leaned back, his gaze connected with hers, but she saw a new look in his eyes. He didn’t speak, and Christine feared she’d done greater harm than good.
Finally, he leaned forward. “You’ve made a point.”
“Thank you,” she said, releasing a pent-up breath as the waitress arrived with their bill.