It wasn’t easy, slipping away in broad daylight with the media watching. Yet it was managed nonetheless. At nine a.m., an ambulance left the ER. Minutes later, a second one left.
At 9:14, the first one pulled into the North Lakes Nursing Home, a routine stop. When the second arrived at 9:18, a blue Explorer crept up to conceal the patients, as they shed their hospital gowns and slipped in back. Then quietly it left, and a block later squealed off for the airport. At 9:58, the J. R. Eagle hit the runway and climbed quickly into the southern sky. Inside the plush cabin, Mayson slept against Tyler’s shoulder. His own eyes closed as he thought to himself, a brilliant plan, Darcy. Thank you.
Tyler didn’t wake until the Eagle’s first thump, as its claws flexed for landing. Out the window, he saw the sparkling James, the sprawling shipyard to the east, and finally — after weeks of absence — the blessed sun filtering through the clouds.
Mayson’s eyes opened with the Eagle’s next thump. “Tyler, I’m scared.”
“You’re beautiful,” he smiled.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. And there’s no reason to be afraid.”
“Don’t say that when my heart’s pounding in my ears.”
He studied her with growing frustration. Makeup highlighted her exquisite facial angles, mascara enhancing her thickly lashed eyes, widened now by an unreasonable fright. In the last day, she’d made friends of Nurse Ginny, Dr. Claiborne, Darcy Norton and taciturn Jock Barnes. Was there any doubt she’d soon forge a much deeper relationship with the Waddill clan? Why couldn’t she understand that?
With a final shudder, the Eagle landed and glided towards the hangar. “Listen,” he said, brushing back her hair. “For the last time: there’s nothing to fear.”
“Right! I’m sure they won’t even notice my accent.”
“A dozen noisy Virginians will drown it out. Now relax.”
“Relax!” she worried. “How can I possibly relax? You haven’t even told me what to call your family?”
“In Virginia, it’s customary to address people by their names.”
She was about to blister him in Italian, when tall, rugged Jock Barnes appeared in the cabin doorway. “I’m sorry, ma’am, if I shook you up. Conditions were a bit rough this morning.”
“It wasn’t bad, Jock. In fact, I didn’t even notice.”
“That’s because you were asleep,” Tyler said.
“That accent,” Jock said, squinting. “Brooklyn?”
Anxiously, she nodded. “Too sharp?”
“Shucks no, ma’am. Here, let me give you a hand.”
As they disembarked, she found the limo parked near the hangar, and the two men standing out front. “Dad’s the white guy,” said Tyler, taking her arm.
Her breath left her now, as she thumped along beside him. She wanted it all, yet not even a slice was promised. Neither Tyler’s words nor his actions assured her of anything more than a nice long rest. Would she stay a week? A month? And as what? Friend, lover or co-author of a book describing their misadventure?
Davis, the chauffeur, reached her first, his broad face grinning and large hand extended. “Welcome to Virginia, Mayson. Real pleased to meet you.”
Schuyler came next, with a big bear hug — one that Mayson gamely returned. His tall, lean body was Tyler’s, just like his angular jaw that, in the human equation, translated into handsome. His blond, white-streaked hair, if longer, would also form Tyler’s windswept tangles. His eyes, a paler blue, hinted at some deep emotion she couldn’t fathom. “Mayson,” they said, brightening. “Let’s go home.”
“Schuyler, would you look at this?” Davis held up their small travel bag. “Gone two months, and this is all they have to show for it?”
As Tyler helped her into the limo, she whispered, “Did you hear that? Mr. Davis called your father ‘Schuyler.’ “
“Not Mr. Davis — Davis Thadley. And my father’s Schuyler Waddill. Names. That quirky Virginia custom, remember?”
The next minutes brought further understanding as they left the airport and started east along the Peninsula. The front glass down, she listened to the light chatter and easy laughter, as driver and passenger moved from current events to local gossip. Davis wasn’t a chauffeur, Schuyler, not an employer. They were simply friends, and one happened to be very rich.
As they crept between the lights on Warwick Boulevard, she saw Tyler and the Old Dame’s mopper in Schuyler and Davis. Tyler, and the blind girl who operated the newsstand. Tyler and whoever happened to be in his path — rich or poor, worldly or illiterate. For him and his father, people were just people. There were no classes, just good ones and pains in the asses. Yet even though she’d come to know him so well, there remained a sacred piece still locked away —Kara, this woman she didn’t know, yet to whom her fate seemed oddly bound.
She slipped from her reflections as they started across the James River, the jagged coastline emerging in the window. Towering steel beams and enormous ships dominated the eastern horizon for miles. “Is that...?”
“Waddill Shipbuilding,” Tyler nodded.
“The entire coastline?”
Schuyler stretched his arm across the seat. “Mayson,” he said, “you need an awful lot of space to build those giant carriers the Navy likes so much and to repair those fatboy tankers that keep the oil moving.” He smiled at her awestruck eyes. “I’d love to give you a tour, once you’re off those darn crutches.”
“That would be wonderful,” she answered. But would she be here that long? Tyler’s pensive eyes didn’t hold the answer. They’d been fixed on the window ever since leaving the airport.
Crossing the bridge, they continued north. Soon, the traffic thinned and civilization faded away. Turning into a private lane, it seemed like they’d left the world entirely. The sun slipped behind the tall oaks, then returned with the next meadow. The James had vanished, yet its soothing presence remained on her shoulders. Wherever the trip ended, she sensed it would be waiting like a loving mother.
They were gliding into the bosom of a pastoral paradise that existed only in fairytales. Where kings and queens held court and handsome princes kissed beautiful princesses. “I understand now why it’s called Castlewood. It’s so beautiful!” she marveled.
“Wait until you see the house,” Davis said.
“Does it look like a castle?”
“Eighteen bedrooms,” he said. “I’d say that qualifies, wouldn’t you?”
Eighteen bedrooms — Madonna mia!
“Now, now,” Schuyler said. “Mayson, you have to understand that Davis tends to exaggerate. If you’re not careful, he’ll have you believing we’re the Rockefellers of the South. And there’re only sixteen bedrooms.”
“I exaggerate?” Davis huffed. “Who brags his golf handicap is ten when anyone at the Club will tell you it’s sixteen?”
“It was ten at one time,” he insisted with a smile. “Anyway, Josie, the pretty little gal who runs Castlewood with her Mama, has fixed up one of those bedrooms especially for you, Mayson. I hope you’ll be comfortable.”
“I’m sure I will be, thank you.”
“Do you play golf?” he asked.
“No sir,” she replied, amazed he’d ask such a question. He was so warm and unassuming.
“Would you like to learn?” Davis asked. “After the cast comes off. We can teach her, can’t we, Schuyler?”
“We’ll have to. It’s for sure, Tyler won’t. You can’t get him anywhere near a golf course. How about it, Mayson?”
“That would be great!”
They soon encountered three young equestriennes crossing the lush meadow on their handsome steeds. When Davis honked, they waved. “Who are they?” she asked.
“The Randolphs,” Schuyler replied. “Our families have lived side by side for more generations than I can count. The Culpeppers did, too, until Travis and Betsy got uppity and bought that fancy place over in York. Blair Randolph is Tyler’s godmother; Austin, his godfather. And Hunter Leigh and I are godparents... well, we were,” his voice dropped into a canyon.
“Godparents to one of the Randolph children?” she asked.
“That’s right. And those little girls are their grandchildren.”
“Wow!” Tyler suddenly came out of his shell. “I’d forgotten how rich the colors are. The trees, the grass, the sky — everything seems so much brighter.”
Schuyler’s eyes filled as he studied his son. “I know exactly what you mean,” he agreed.
Then please explain it to me, Mayson wanted to scream.
As they reached the brick-column entrance, she read its simple brass plate: Castlewood. Enraptured, she scooped up every detail as they glided up the evergreen-rimmed lane. She was entering a dream world, and wanted to remember it all later.
The enormous colonial mansion soon loomed above the trees, its white-pillared portico and latticed windows dressed in garlands of holly and spruce. “Madonna mia!” she gasped. “It really is a castle!”
As they crested the knoll, people flowed joyously into the drive, an ancient golden retriever creaking along the edge of the chaos.
“Just be yourself, and the rest will take care of itself,” Tyler said as he kissed her and the welcome party converged on the limo. “It’ll all make sense, I promise.”
Would it explain his mysterious silence on the drive, and Schuyler’s misty eyes?
Helping her out, Tyler vanished into the crowd of family. Quickly, she was scooped up and hugged. It was a warm, smothering introduction, and if she didn’t yet know a single person, she now knew them all. She knew Castlewood as the safe, happy place of dreams and the handsome prince who dwelled here, as a promise — only not hers. She wasn’t part of this world and never would be. She knew this just as she’d known the magnificent James would be waiting at the journey’s end.
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”
She turned to find Tyler’s mother gazing at the placid river. “I lost sight of it when we crossed the bridge, but never the sense that it was close, as if it was following us,” Mayson answered.
“That’s because it was,” Hunter Leigh laughed. “Once you turn off the highway, it runs with the lane, right up here to the house.” Her soft, blue eyes gleamed. “I’ve lived on its banks my entire life, and yet its beauty still grabs me. I hope it always will.”
“I hope so, too,” Mayson said. Already she was drawn to Hunter Leigh’s warmth and sincerity.
“Mayson, I love your accent.” Stafford appeared now, a female version of Tyler, with the same gold hair, precise features and river-blue eyes.
“I was afraid you might need ear muffs.”
“Your accent’s rather refreshing, like spice on grits,” Hunter Leigh smiled.
“Mayson, do you eat grits?” Stafford asked.
“Once, when Tyler ordered them at a business breakfast. I thought they were terrible.”
“At last! Another soul with my tastebuds.”
“Grits were a morning requirement when Lavinia was here,” Hunter Leigh explained. “And she made the best I’ve ever tasted. She was a wonderful cook. A wonderful person.”
“Then she died?”
“Three years ago,” Hunter Leigh nodded.
“When Tiles and I were growing up,” Stafford said, “‘Lavinny wouldn’t let us up from the breakfast table until we’d finished our grits. But the instant she turned her back, I’d dump mine in his bowl.”
The others strolled into view along the riverbank. Church crept faithfully behind Tyler, impervious to the noisy children around him. “My son never strays far from the water,” Hunter Leigh smiled. “And old Church, never too far from him.”
“He wants to start hunting again,” Mayson revealed.
“I knew it!” Stafford beamed.
What? That Tyler had a sudden urge to stalk prey?
“That sparkle in his eyes,” Hunter Leigh sighed. “Then you noticed it, too? I was afraid to say anything.” Her eyes watered as she followed her son across the bank. “I haven’t seen such a spring in his step for so long — his tenth birthday, do you remember?”
“The Sunfish,” Stafford agreed.
“He was too young for it, Mayson. But he could swim like a fish. And he was cautious around water.”
“Cautious with his precious cargo,” Stafford laughed. “And as I recall, the Sunfish was a joint birthday present, anyway.”
Hunter Leigh nodded. “Born hours apart, they practically breathed the same air from the moment they left the hospital. ‘Little shadows,’ Travis called them... Oh Good Lord!” she burst as Tyler scooped Church up and began dancing across the riverbank. “I haven’t seen that silly doggie trot in years!”
“Tiles gets him so dizzy!” Stafford laughed.
Tyler and his father soon fell behind the others to solemnly confer. The conversation ended with their embrace, and Tyler’s deep grin. Mayson had never seen him so happy. If only she could be part of it!
“Would someone please tell me what that was all about?” Hunter Leigh asked, then noticed the sudden cloud over Mayson’s eyes. “Here we are rambling on, and I bet you’re dying to get off those crutches. It’s too cold to be on this riverbank, anyway. Let’s go inside.”
They entered the side hall, where the air was warm and cinnamon-laced, and alive with Christmas music. Slipping into the kitchen to arrange for pecan pie and coffee, Hunter Leigh returned to lead them down to the study. Mayson’s first glimpse of the giant Christmas tree with its glittering lights and ornaments took her breath away. “A holiday beacon they say can be seen for miles on the river,” Stafford explained.
In awe, Mayson’s gaze drifted over the extravagant piles of presents, holiday bric-a-brac, pine-laced windows and stone hearth, where a cozy fire flickered. Inspecting the presents, she was astonished to find her name on several. “I’m sorry I don’t have any for you,” she confessed.
“You’ve given us far more than we could’ve hoped for,” Hunter Leigh said, glowing.
She had? How? By tagging along with Tyler to Castlewood? Like a magnet, her eyes returned to the giant tree. Never had she seen so many ornaments — sparkling balls... gleaming gold and silver charms... embroidered hand-carved figurines.
“You’ll find every Barnum and Bailey animal brought to Norfolk,” Hunter Leigh explained. “Tyler adored the circus.”
Especially the clowns. She noted their absence, and knew at least one present she would’ve given him, had there been time.
She studied the footballs next, each one inscribed with a team and year. “And this?” she lifted a gold charm. “His first car?”
“Second,” Hunter Leigh replied.
“Here’s the first.” Stafford held up another. “An XKE. Matt Culpepper got a Corvette the same Christmas. They used to race on some now infamous country road.”
“Fortunately, they grew out of it,” Hunter Leigh sighed.
“Grew out of it?” Stafford laughed. “Tiles totaled the XKE in one of those hellacious Saturday night races. Poor Kara didn’t know if he’d crawl from the crumpled metal or have to be cut out.”
“After a rather tense summer,” Hunter Leigh added, “Schuyler convinced himself that our son’s racing days were over, and sent him off to college with a new car and some firm fatherly advice.”
Mayson’s attention was drawn to the gold figurine of a girl playing the piano. Kara. She didn’t need to read the inscription to know what it said.
Hunter Leigh saw her suddenly tear-filled eyes, “Are you all right, dear?” she asked.
She nodded. “A little tired, I guess.”
“Good Lord, I’d almost forgotten your surgery! How about a nap? You must be exhausted.”
Dead was more like it. Tyler’s apartment had been a shrine to Kara. She’d been his childhood friend, lover, everything – and always would be. The revelation settled over her now like a black cloud.
“That nap sounds good,” she said, as her fingers slipped off the piano figurine. Would he check on her? They were no longer fugitives. This was Castlewood, where the old rules didn’t apply and the new ones were yet to be established.
Stafford studied her strangely. “Tiles did tell you about Kara Randolph, didn’t he?”
“Of course,” Mayson replied. Masking her disappointment, she recited everything she remembered from Schuyler’s commentary. “He also told me the Randolph estate adjoins Castlewood and that your families are very close, which makes it only natural that he and Kara would be, too.” She turned to Hunter Leigh, “You and Schuyler are Kara’s godparents. And the Randolphs are Tyler’s, right?”
Hunter Leigh nodded, ready to dispense with the sudden stress choking the air. “I’m sorry Tyler bored you with all that family history. Come on, we’ll show you to your room.”
She led them down to a suite on the mansion’s west corner.
“I’m sure I’ll be quite comfortable,” Mayson said as she peered inside at the bright, handsome furnishings.
“Nap as long as you like,” Hunter Leigh said. “Supper isn’t for awhile.”
“You’ll tell Tyler I’m resting?”
“Of course, dear.”
As they left, she caught Hunter Leigh’s fading voice. “Audrey Hepburn, yes — I knew it was an actress.”
Leaning on her crutches, Mayson gazed out at Castlewood’s manicured grounds, boxwood-lined walks, latticed gardens, the lush meadow and the forest beyond. It was like a beautifully painted landscape in a Manhattan gallery.
Enraptured, her eyes settled on the ancient oak rising above the knoll. A tree house was tucked into its sprawling branches looking, she imagined, just as it had when Tyler had first climbed inside. Holding this image, she drifted off, then was quickly jerked back, finding a pretty, ebony face poking through the door.
“I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed,” Josie explained.
“Yes, thank you. Have you seen Tyler?”
“Hunter Leigh told him you were napping, so he just grabbed a wreath off the window and left. But don’t worry,” she smiled. “He’ll be back for supper.”
A wreath? “Do you know where he went?”
“Same place he always goes. Randolph Estates, to pay his respects to Kara.”
Pay his respects. What an odd way to describe groveling after a woman. “I guess you know Kara broke his heart.”
Josie shrugged. “That’s one way of putting it, I guess. Only she didn’t mean to.”
How could a person break another’s heart without meaning to? She watched Josie slip out. Wistfully, her gaze returned to the tree house in the ancient oak. Love him, Kara. He deserves it so much. She was too tired to fight any longer.
Instead, she prayed, Lord, I’ve worked so hard to do what’s right, and not become a burden. I don’t want to start now. I just want to rest and be warm. I’ve been so cold. Was He listening? Faithfully, she continued, I love him so much, Lord. I want to take care of him and have him take care of me. To know, as my eyes close at night, that he’ll be there when they open again in the morning. I want to share my life with him, and share his. The good and... She turned at the creaking door.
“I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear.” It was Stafford. “Mayson, has anyone ever told you that you look like Audrey Hepburn?”
“A few people,” she answered. Stafford and her brother were so much alike — easy, warm, likeable. “You and Tyler have the same smile, the same sparkle in your eyes.” Stafford wore solemn expressions like stiff Sunday dresses — only when required. After that, she slipped back into her smile like it was a pair of comfortable sneakers.
“Tiles’s sparkle disappeared for a long time,” Stafford said. “But it’s back now. I saw it the instant he arrived... Mayson, when you said Tiles had told you about Kara, I thought, ‘Well, if he’s ever confided in anyone, it’s only natural it would be you.’ He’s always been so private about her, treating her like a precious, yet fragile piece of himself that might break in someone else’s hands.”
“A piece of him did break,” Mayson said. “Kara — this one you call precious and fragile – broke his heart into so many pieces that it can’t be fixed. And the reason he doesn’t share her is because of the enormous pain he still feels. Tyler isn’t one to burden others with his suffering. He’d much rather help people with their problems and forget his own.”
Stafford realized now she’d had it backwards. After weeks together, Mayson knew everything about Tiles except Kara. Mayson was the one person capable of forcing him to finally lay Kara to rest. “You obviously understand my brother very well,” Stafford said.
“At this point, he’s all I understand,” Mayson sighed. “Everyone else here has me spinning like a top.”
Indeed, Stafford studied her doe-like eyes; they were intense, but uncomprehending. “Mayson, do you love my brother?”
She was surprised by the blunt question. What could be less relevant than her feelings for Tyler? Then why not confess them?
“At first, I did my best to deny my feelings, terrified of believing anyone like him really existed. Life had taught me many bitter lessons. And yet my heart was prepared to challenge each one.”
“What kind of lessons?” Stafford asked.
“That peace doesn’t exist. That people can’t be trusted. But can he? And how am I to know?”
“And what did you discover?”
“That Tyler can be trusted not just with the truth, but with my very life. I can place it in his hands, and I know he’ll protect it. When the door closes behind him, I know it’ll open again. I’ve discovered all this in each moment I’ve spent with him. Time merely deepens my trust.”
“And does all this translate into love?”
“Far more than I could ever explain.”
“Try,” Stafford coaxed, confident she’d do a splendid job.
“Love is so elusive,” Mayson began, her eyes drifting to the window. “Yet, when you find it like that rare flower in the forest, and the petals unfold, so does its mystery. In one miraculous moment, you understand everything.”
“What, Mayson?”
“That peace in this violent world is attainable, that anger and fear are curable conditions. That happiness isn’t a fool’s fantasy, but something within reach. Even more amazing, that a person is happiest when caring most about another’s happiness. And if I was convinced that Kara could provide it, I’d choke on my disappointment and walk away. Please, Stafford,” her begged. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s time someone did. Come on, let’s go for a drive.”
Rising on her crutches, Mayson followed her out. Hunter Leigh met them in the side hall. “Where are you two going?”
Stafford dug into her handbag for the keys. “We’ve decided Mayson needs fresh air more than a nap.”
“More confused than tired?” Hunter Leigh asked.
“Never more,” Mayson nodded. Slipping into her jacket, she followed Stafford out to the drive, where they encountered Schuyler, Parker, the children and Church resting nearby. Her stomach knotted at their lack of curiosity, as Stafford announced their plans. Did they already know about this drive?
Schuyler stopped them as they reached the Pathfinder. “Travis called to say GNN has reported another suicide. Leopold. Does that name ring a bell, Mayson?”
Not a bell, a nightmare, she thought, envisioning the dark giant. They’d stumbled upon Leopold at the grocery store. Tyler had escaped, but could’ve just as easily been caught. There’d been so many moments like that — so many grocery stores, trucks, cold, dreary places that she just wanted to forget.
“The police found him in a Chicago motel with a bullet in his head,” Schuyler explained. “He left a note apologizing for his crimes, the worst being his association with Harrington.”
He sensed her reluctance, like Tyler’s, to discuss the last weeks, which was fine by him. The story could come out in its own time. What mattered was that Tyler and Mayson were here. She was the piece missing these last six years. He knew by the air’s new buzz and the sky’s brightness on a chilling, gray afternoon. He knew because Castlewood had suddenly returned to life. “What are you doing?” he asked as he watched Stafford help Church into the Pathfinder.
“He’s never been on this drive either,” she replied. “If a mystery’s to be solved, I don’t see why he can’t be included.”
Nor did he. “Just be back for supper.”
Kissing Parker good-bye, Stafford started down the drive. “Mayson, you must understand that when Tiles and Kara opened their eyes to this world, the first thing they saw was each other. Not by design, but because their mothers, who happened to be best friends, had gotten pregnant at the same time. They were born in the same delivery room, just hours apart.
“After that, they were together whenever Blair and Hunter Leigh were — which was constantly in those days. They shared baby bottles, toys, everything... They shared life,” she turned solemnly. “That’s what I’m trying to explain.”
Crossing the first bridge, she continued, “Not long after they were born, our parents began taking vacations together. Consequently, whatever the discovery — the beach, Disney World — Tiles and Kara made it together. Not surprisingly, they took their first steps and spoke their first words within hours of each other. They smiled, laughed — even breathed in chorus. No one ever told them it wasn’t supposed to be that way.
“Hunter Leigh and Blair thought it so cute to come home from parties and find them curled up asleep on the nursery floor, their toys scattered around them. They predicted that one day their babies would get married and eternally bond the two families. Schuyler and Austin swore, however, that they’d eventually grow sick of each other.”
Mayson braced as they bounced over another bridge. The sun had been lost in the deepening afternoon. Nor had they seen the first car. Where were they going, besides farther away from civilization?
“The tree house was either a blessing or a curse,” Stafford said. “Whichever, after its inaugural climb, no one questioned again the permanency of their bond. If life’s a journey, they decided at six years old to take it together... And they did.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“Until Kara broke his heart, you mean.”
“No, Mayson, Kara didn’t break his heart. Just be patient. We’re almost there.”
“Where?”
“I’m getting to that. Anyway, the tree house wasn’t really a curse. It’s a dream come true for most six-year-olds, right? And they graced it with their childhood years. It really defined them, I think, because all that they became in life was conceived there – Tiles’s football, Kara’s piano.”
Stafford smiled. “Blair would say Kara couldn’t eat the day of an academy football game — butterflies. You’d have thought she, not Tiles, was the team’s quarterback. And because she’d memorized the game plan, it was difficult to believe that she wasn’t. She loved football because Tiles did, and because they were so tightly bonded, she never truly grasped that they were different people.
“And it was the same for him. He had no appreciation for music. He refused to take piano lessons and laughed at every boy who did. Yet when Kara took an interest, the piano suddenly became the greatest thing since sliced bread.” She smiled once more. “If I told you he got stage fright just sitting in the front row at Kara’s recitals, would you believe me?”
They turned into a private lane, like Castlewood, featuring a handsome column entrance. Randolph Estates. Mayson’s stomach lurched at the plate’s inscription. The stone mansion rose above the trees. Kara’s house! But just before reaching it, they turned onto another lane that burrowed deeper into the forest.
“Kara was many things to Tiles, but one thing very special,” Stafford said. “It was the foundation upon which their relationship was built. Sadly, it’s also what has made her absence so painful. Kara was Tiles’s best friend. The greatest compliment he could give anyone.”
Parking behind a black Range Rover, she watched Mayson’s eyes flit nervously over the landscape. “So how about it? Is there finally a successor to Kara’s title?”
So what if she was Tyler’s best friend? Now that he was home, wouldn’t he try to put the crown back on Kara’s head? “Is that his?” she asked, nodding at the Range Rover.
“Yes,” Stafford answered. She slipped out to help Church down. The old dog seemed to shed half his years as he trotted crisply into the woods. “Come on,” she coaxed Mayson.
Her stomach turned again. Did she have a choice? Crawling out, she thumped after them. “Is Kara here, too?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
She had no time to ponder this mystery, as Stafford started into the woods, Church creaking behind. The gravel path presented her with difficulty on her crutches. Stafford stopped to play with Church until she caught up. “Is this a private park?” she asked Stafford.
“Just follow me, all right?” As Mayson glanced at an equally clueless Church, Stafford started off again. “Obviously, I’m telling you all this for a reason – specifically, so that you’ll understand everything when we arrive. Tiles, if he’d been thinking clearly, would’ve explained it before.”
“He and Kara were in love. Then Kara broke his heart. What else is there to understand?”
“Quite a lot, I’d say. Tiles, if I understand correctly, wasn’t initially involved in the murder case, but plunged into it voluntarily to rescue you. Why, Mayson? Certainly you’ve asked yourself the same question?”
Indeed. “He knew I’d been wrongly accused, and was much too noble to stand by as my life was destroyed,” replied Mayson.
“So noble that he abandoned his own life just to help you?”
“He hated New York and was leaving anyway.”
“And going where?” Stafford frowned. “Florida, Tennessee... Wisconsin?”
“All right!” she snapped. “I get your point!”
“No Mayson, I don’t think you do.”
“Madonna mia, Stafford. He still dreams of Kara.”
“And when he does, who’s beside him?”
“Me — as if he had a choice.”
“My point exactly. Before Wisconsin, Tennessee and Naples... before getting himself into the murder case, he did have a choice. You, Mayson. You were his choice.”
The trees now surrendered to gray sky as they reached the end of the path. Would they be stumbling upon the starry-eyed lovers? Mayson’s heart out-thumped her crutches.
“Travis used to say Tiles and Kara never left each other’s shadow,” Stafford said. “The day they did, he said, the sun would burn up the earth and we’d all die. Obviously, it didn’t happen that way.” A branch in her fingers, she held Mayson mysteriously. “Kara was being taken away, without choice or consideration of her feelings. She must’ve been terrified, and yet her greatest fear was how Tiles would be affected. Her love was unselfish, without conditions, just as his was for her. It was one that could’ve endured an eternity, and yet it ended so quickly, without reason — just deep pain.”
“That pain still exists,” Mayson replied. “And if it’s without reason, it’s not without an explanation. One which you and everyone else, seem to forget. Kara abandoned Tyler, which proves to me, at least, that she didn’t care.”
“Oh, Mayson, you’re so very wrong,” Stafford said, shaking her head. “Kara couldn’t have cared more. And she didn’t abandon Tiles. Given a choice, she wouldn’t have gone anywhere.”
“Well, she’s certainly had a choice at some point in the last six years. But she hasn’t returned... or has she?”
As Church groaned impatiently, Stafford fluffed his coat. “Hold on, boy, just a second,” she said to the dog. “Mayson, it’s as impossible for Kara to return as it was for her to stay.”
“Impossible?” Mayson huffed. “Where is she? Paris? Tahiti? Or some other remote corner of the earth, where planes don’t fly and phones don’t exist?”
Stafford smiled at her delicate hands, clenching the crutches, as an angry tremble worked through her. Whatever the emotion, Mayson never failed to express it passionately. “I can see that you and Kara are entirely different creatures, yet your love for my brother is the same.”
“No Stafford, I love him far more. Only he loves her and he always will. I can’t change that. And if you brought me here to prove it, you’ve succeeded.”
“I didn’t bring you here to prove anything, Mayson. I just wanted you to understand that Kara never wanted anything more than my brother’s happiness. In spite of what happened six years ago, Tiles was always her first concern. To know what she was facing, and yet to place his welfare above everything else — there could be no greater proof of her love than that.”
“And what does her absence prove? Don’t smother me with her attributes or offer excuses for her behavior. I’m sick of them. Just tell me where she is.”
Calmly, Stafford pulled the branch back to permit a full view of the cemetery. “Over there.”
“Oh...!” Mayson’s breath left her as she found Tyler standing over a grave, the wreath he’d brought resting against the gray headstone. Madonna mia! How long had he been standing there, so still, his solemn eyes fixed on Kara’s grave? Oh, amore mio, why didn’t you tell me?
Tired of waiting, Church began the slow journey across the cemetery. Stafford cried as she recalled how he’d once run after Tiles and chased squirrels through the woods. And how Kara had been waiting when they returned.
“You’ll get just one more lesson from me,” she said as she turned to a speechless Mayson. “But take it to heart. No one would be more at peace now than Kara to know that for the first time since she’s been gone, Tiles is happy. Only you could bring him back, Mayson. We knew it the instant he got out of the car. That sparkle had returned to his eyes. And his smile...” Her face cracked and tears spilled as she embraced Mayson. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing my brother home.”
Across the cemetery, Church reached Tyler, and sensing the solemn moment, dropped respectfully on his hindquarters to study the grave. A few seconds later, Tyler saw him. Turning, his eyes connected with Mayson’s.
Starting across the cemetery, she thumped faster as she drew near. Reaching him, the crutches fell away as she threw herself into his arms. Church barked joyfully at their feet.
“Atta boy! You tell ‘em!” Stafford laughed tearfully as she started back through the woods.
“I should’ve told you before,” Tyler sighed.
“Yes, you should have,” Mayson agreed.
“I’ve had this dream recently. I was lugging a jar up the beach, but it was too heavy, so I yelled at Kara to say I couldn’t carry it any further. She said I should turn back. I got mad and told her to take it. But she wouldn’t – until that night in the hospital. She took it, and then I understood.”
“Understood what?”
“That I’d finally escaped that place between life and death. Lauren told me before I left New York that I was in love. I said she was crazy, but I realize now she was right. I must’ve been from the beginning.”
She had the sense of floating suddenly. “The beginning?”
“That Monday morning in the library, when Lamp reported Morris’s murder. Our eyes connected, and yours revealed the first emotion I’d ever seen – fear, so genuine that it shook me. Whether or not you realized it, you were reaching out. And I just needed that first glimmer of humanity. Only I was too stubborn to admit it. Then when I did, I felt guilty, as if I was betraying Kara.”
A deep sadness filled Mayson’s eyes. “Tyler, I’m so sorry for those terrible things I said. Kara was obviously a wonderful person. She loved you very much.”
“I loved her just as much,” he said. “So much, that when she died, I couldn’t let go. I knew I’d never feel the same, something that time just seemed to confirm. It was pretty awful for a while, but then I realized...”
“What Tyler?”
Pushing back emotion, he said, “That I wasn’t saving you, but myself. I realized that running for my life was nothing compared to running from my pain. With you I had direction, and after six years I knew I’d finally made it home.”
“To Castlewood, you mean?”
“No, Mayson, to you. You’re my home. I’m saying that I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
Her mouth fell open, fresh tears glistening in her eyes, as she struggled to absorb this miracle.
Grabbing his handkerchief, he dabbed her cheeks. “I swear, you cry at the blink of an eye. So do I get an answer or not?” She nodded tearfully. “Of course I’ll marry you, Tyler.”
“Mayson, I don’t want you to cry anymore,” he said, taking her back into his arms. “I want you to sing.”
She was — more joyfully than she’d ever dreamed possible. If only Rosa were alive to celebrate this moment. “Tyler, I love you so much!” she said.
“I was thinking about tomorrow,” he said, as his chin dropped in her hair. “It’d be nice to sleep in the same bed on Christmas Eve. I know it’s awful to admit, but I miss your toes digging into my legs.”
“Tomorrow’s fine, if you’re sure today’s definitely out.”
“I doubt Schuyler can get Reverend Motley out to Castlewood this evening.”
“You told him on the riverbank, didn’t you?” she asked.
“Just that I planned to ask. I wasn’t crazy enough to predict your answer.”
“Why not?” She stroked his jaw with a well-worn intimacy. “You knew it’d be Yes.”
“Like hell. Must you always mess with my face that way?”
“Surely Kara had at least one silly habit?”
“Well,” he smiled, “she did occasionally play piggly wiggly with my fingers. And she collected colored glass, the kind that washes up in the surf. She’d comb the beach for hours, scooping up every piece she could find.”
“Tyler, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. But there’s one thing I can’t do — I can’t be Kara.”
“I don’t want you to be. Kara’s finally what she should’ve been six years ago — a precious memory... Hey,” he grinned suddenly. “The Super Bowl’s next month! Want to go?
“The Redskins won’t be in it.”
“Neither will the Giants.”
She marveled at his deep smile. She’d never seen him so happy. “Tyler, I’ll never let you down.”
“Just be happy, Mayson, that’s all I want.”
“I couldn’t be happier than I am now.”
They started back across the cemetery, she thumping, Church creaking, and he, the anchor in the middle. “I have some Christmas shopping to do,” he said. “Would you like to go to the mall? We can get you one of those motorized wheelchairs.”
“Sure.” Her eyes lifted seductively. “I guess this means we finally get to do it, huh?”
“Then you’re offering more than apples and buns?”
“I have been since Tennessee.”
“We should call the Adkins and wish them a Merry Christmas.”
“Not until after we do it.”
“I knew it’d be coming soon,” he said, wincing.
“What?”
“Your first order.”
“Want my second?” She nodded at Church, creeping beside them. “Get him a little brother.”
“I’d planned to. Church can keep you company while Schuyler and I take the pup over to Gobblepatch.”
“What in the world is Gobblepatch?”
“Where we hunt.” He sighed. “I can’t wait to get back in the woods. You should see the new hunting jacket I got Schuyler.”
“Is it nice?”
“Oh, yeah...”