CHAPTER 19

Andrew had never had a better day.

And without a doubt, it was because of Grace. Her enthusiasm for everything she encountered in the park was contagious. Through her eyes, he experienced all the attractions as though seeing them for the first time.

Despite her bold assertion that she was a skilled markswoman, her attempts at the shooting gallery had been hilarious, resulting in fits of laughter on both their parts. That was another thing he appreciated about Grace, her ability to laugh at herself. And her ability to make him laugh too—something he didn’t do nearly often enough.

When he won her a kewpie doll at the bottle toss, she seemed as thrilled as if he’d handed her a diamond necklace. He could only imagine Cecilia in the same position. She’d likely keep the doll long enough to please him, and then toss it in the nearest trash receptacle as soon as he wasn’t looking.

Andrew gave himself a stern reprimand. Nothing could be gained by comparing the two women who were as different as chalk and cheese.

After enjoying hamburgers and potato chips for supper, the group had taken a seat by the water, content to simply enjoy the view.

Andrew glanced at the sky. Still several hours before the fireworks would begin. He doubted his mother or Christian would last that long. Even Virginia seemed unusually subdued. Perhaps it was time to call it a day. “If everyone is ready, I suggest we head down to the dock to catch the next ferry home.”

His mother gave a weary sigh. “That might be best. I fear I’ve worn myself out.”

Grace rose at once. “I can accompany you back, Mrs. Easton. I need to take Christian home anyway.”

“That’s most thoughtful of you, Grace.”

Grace smiled as she adjusted the blankets in Christian’s carriage. “I’ve had such a wonderful day. Thank you all for including me.”

When she turned her grateful gaze on him, Andrew’s chest tightened. If only everyone could be so appreciative of the little things in life.

“This is silly.” Virginia suddenly bolted up from the ground. “Grace, you can’t miss the fireworks. They’re the best part of the day. I’ll take Mother and Christian back. Andrew, you stay and show Grace how Canada celebrates our national holiday.”

“No, really,” Grace protested. “I don’t mind.”

“I insist. I have the start of a headache anyway. The noise will only make it worse.”

Andrew looked to his mother, ever the one for propriety. “What do you think, Mother? I don’t mind leaving early.”

Mother got to her feet and brushed off her skirt. “Virginia’s right. It would be a shame to miss the fireworks. And you certainly won’t be alone with all the people here. Not that I don’t trust you to be a gentleman.” She smiled and patted Andrew’s cheek. “Thank you for escorting us. It couldn’t have been easy putting up with us females.”

“It was no hardship. Besides, I had Christian along to even out the male side. Imagine how excited he’ll be next year. We won’t be able to contain him.”

Mother chuckled. “Yes. I’m sure. Well, good-night then. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Grace pulled her wrap and Andrew’s jacket and hat from the boot of the baby carriage.

“You don’t have to do this, Andrew.” Grace’s brow furrowed as she watched Virginia and his mother retreating down the boardwalk. “I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

He looked into those brown depths and felt the pull clear to his toes. “I’m happy to stay,” he said softly. “And don’t worry. You could never be a nuisance, Grace Foley.”

Grace and Andrew strolled along the boardwalk, searching for the perfect spot to view the fireworks. Andrew, she discovered, fancied himself quite the fireworks expert and claimed to know the ideal location to get the greatest effect.

Halfway along the planked walkway, he stopped and tugged Grace over to the railing. “Other than being out on the water in a boat, this is the best place to watch the fireworks.” He pointed to the middle of the lake. “Right out there is where they’ll begin.”

To their left, the sun was a red ball, hanging just above the water, casting a reddish-orange reflection over the lake.

“It’s so beautiful. I love watching the sun set over the water, don’t you?”

He looked down at her and smiled. “I do. Though I don’t take the time often enough to appreciate it.”

Crowds of onlookers began to press in, forcing Andrew to move closer to Grace. She pulled her shawl tighter around her, grateful for the warmth Andrew’s nearness provided.

“So, Grace, tell me about your life in England. What did you do there, other than teach Sunday school?”

When he watched her with those mesmerizing blue eyes, Grace could scarcely breathe. She tore her gaze away to focus on the water. “I led an exceedingly boring life, I assure you.”

“Doing what? Farming? Sheep herding? Opera singing?”

Despite herself, Grace laughed out loud. “Nothing like that.”

“Okay, I’ll ask a different question. What did you want to be when you grew up?”

She shrugged. “I suppose for a while I fancied becoming a teacher. But I was still in school when the war broke out. My brother enlisted right away, and my sister was . . . away, working. So it was just Mum and me at home. I finished school and started working at a general store in town to help pay the bills. Mum took in sewing and laundry, but it barely scratched the surface.”

“What about your other brother? Peter, was it? Did he enlist as well?”

For the second time that day, Grace absorbed the pain that came with talking about Peter. “He died long before the war began,” she said quietly.

She hadn’t spoken about Peter’s death—ever. It had become a taboo subject in the family. A dark secret, buried deep, where Grace’s guilt could fester and grow. Yet she wanted to tell Andrew the truth, or part of it. “Peter died saving my life.” Because of my recklessness.

His mouth gaped. “How terrible. I’m so sorry.”

She shivered just thinking about that awful day.

Andrew moved closer and put an arm around her. Heat from his body spread across her shoulders, yet goose bumps skittered down her spine.

“Are you cold?” he asked. “Do you want to go inside somewhere?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“I guess I’ll have to keep you warm then.” He winked at her.

He was trying to lighten the mood, and she blessed him for it. Anything to avoid admitting her culpability in Peter’s death. Anything to calm the nerves his nearness evoked.

“So what did you do while the war was on? Work in a munitions factory?”

“No, though some of the girls in our village did.” She paused. “I volunteered at a nearby hospital where the wounded soldiers were taken for evaluation before they were dispersed elsewhere. Helping the soldiers made me feel closer to Owen, and I hoped if he was ever injured, someone would do the same for him.”

She was still haunted by not knowing exactly how her brother died. Was it instant? Did he suffer? Had some kind soul helped ease the pain of his final hours?

“That’s most admirable. What did you do there?”

“Since I’d had first-aid training, they let me treat the less severe wounds. Bandages and dressings mostly. But I also talked with the men and wrote letters to their families. I did whatever I could to keep their spirits up.”

“I don’t know what to say. You put me to shame.” Under his brow, his eyes were troubled.

“You have nothing to be ashamed about. It wasn’t your fault the army wouldn’t accept you.”

“No, but I still felt guilty for not being part of the war.” He pulled his glasses from his inside pocket. “I never thought having poor eyesight would keep me from fighting for my country.” He slipped the glasses on.

“How disappointing,” she said. “Especially when your brother enlisted with no problem.”

“It was humiliating. Because I appeared so healthy, people couldn’t understand why I wasn’t off with the others. Eventually I got tired of explaining and learned to put up with the rude stares and comments.”

Grace bristled. “That’s so unfair.”

“Perhaps. But it was the reality I lived with, and still do. When I finally accepted that I wouldn’t be going overseas, I threw myself into the family business to help fill the void Frank had left.”

“Your father must have been grateful. He seems to rely on you a great deal.”

“Only by default.” Andrew’s face grew tense. “He’d far rather be working with Frank.”

“What makes you say that?”

He turned his gaze out to the water, a nerve pulsing in his jaw.

After a minute of silence, she laid her hand over his on the railing. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, I want to. It’s just that I’ve never told anyone this before.” He took a deep breath. “The day my father received news of Frank’s death, I was at my desk. I heard a crash and ran down to Father’s office. For some reason, I hesitated outside the door. Harrison Carmichael was with him. My father was weeping. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I knew it had to be monumental for him to cry. Then he shouted, ‘Why did it have to be Frank?’” The veins corded in Andrew’s neck. “He didn’t need to say it. I knew he wished it had been me instead.”

“Andrew, no.” She squeezed his arm. “He probably meant out of all the soldiers fighting, why did it have to be his son? I’m sure it had nothing to do with you.”

Andrew turned to her, his expression tortured. “It only confirmed a truth I’d lived with my whole life. My father loved Frank best.” He shook his head when she started to protest. “I was the son who couldn’t catch a baseball like Frank, who couldn’t attract clients like Frank, who couldn’t charm the girls like Frank.” He closed his eyes, anguish radiating off him in waves. “Who couldn’t go to war like Frank. Who couldn’t die instead of Frank.”

Tears clogged Grace’s throat. Unbidden memories of the cruel things her mother had said—and hadn’t said—when Peter died came flooding back. Sometimes the things that weren’t said could wound deeper than any weapon. She linked her arm through Andrew’s, wishing she could do more to ease his pain. “I know a bit about wanting a parent’s approval and never receiving it. I looked after my mother for four years, gave up my chance to be a teacher, all in the hopes that one day, she would look at me with affection and say she loved me.” Her voice quivered. “That day may never come for me or for you, but somehow we have to learn to value ourselves despite it. To see ourselves as our heavenly Father sees us.” She dashed the moisture from her lashes. “I didn’t know Frank, but I doubt he could be any finer a man than you.”

Andrew looked at her, moisture glinting in his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. He swallowed, his throat working hard.

His gaze fell to her lips, lingering like a caress. Her pulse stuttered, and for one heart-stopping moment, Grace thought he would kiss her.

Then a loud hiss filled the air, and the crowd cheered.

“They’re starting.” Andrew pointed to the middle of the lake.

Sure enough, a colorful explosion burst through the dark sky. Immediately, more rockets flew high into the air, erupting in a multitude of greens, blues, and reds. The murmur of the crowd mirrored Grace’s awe at the breathtaking display, reflected in the still water of the lake below.

Without a pause, the show continued, each burst of color outdoing the one before.

She’d seen a few amateur fireworks at home, but nothing compared with this astounding exhibition. A residue of tears blurred her vision at the magnitude of the spectacle, and in her heart she whispered a prayer of thanks to be witness to such beauty.

“So, what did you think?” Andrew asked as the crowds began to disperse. “Was it as fantastic as I described?”

He smiled, and she was glad to see a lifting of his previous mood.

“Better than anything I could have imagined. This has been the most wonderful day of my life. Thank you for staying and allowing me to see them.” In a rush of gratitude, she reached up and kissed his cheek.

His arm wrapped around her waist. Heat from his hand spread up her back and her pulse shot up, rivaling the fireworks she’d just enjoyed.

“You’re welcome.” Andrew’s husky voice so near her ear sent shivers up her spine. The spicy scent of his cologne enveloped her like a hug.

How easy would it be to give in to temptation and touch her lips to his? But that would mean crossing a line she could never come back from. It could ruin their friendship and put her job at risk.

For once, she tamed her impulsiveness and pulled away to look up at him. The intensity in his eyes stalled her breath. Was he thinking the same thing?

Then his expression changed, and he quickly stepped away. “We’d better head over to the dock. The ferry will be leaving soon.”

Grace murmured a response, all the while trying to control her rampant pulse. But it was no use. She could no longer ignore the glaring truth.

Despite her best intentions, she was falling hard for Andrew Easton.