Beau took Hannah’s hand as he led her down Monument Street. With a brief smile, he tightened his grip and pulled her a little closer. The smell of pine was strong in the air tonight. Crickets clicked out their evening song. The city gas lamps provided a golden glow at their feet, making the world seem a little softer, a little more welcoming.
With each step away from her childhood home, Beau could feel the tension leaving Hannah. They’d had a pleasant enough evening with her father, all things considered, but Beau had sensed the conflicting emotions rushing through her. By the end of the meal, she’d been trembling with nerves and bravely hiding that fact behind a serene smile and gracious manners.
Her acting abilities were good. But not that good. No one, not even his glorious mother, was that good.
Consequently, Beau’s protective instincts had reared, and he’d invited her for this walk. Right now he wanted a moment alone with her, to enjoy her company and discuss anything other than her sister, his brother and painful childhood memories.
“Hannah, I—”
“Beau, I—”
They laughed together, their voices uniting in flawless harmony. A surge of satisfaction filled him. Tonight, everything felt right. “You first,” he said.
She paused, turned to look him in the eyes. The big silver moon cast its pale light across her face, making her look ethereal and fragile. A storybook heroine come to life. A surge of affection jammed the breath in his throat. Beau would not risk losing the gift that stood right in front of him by focusing on what he didn’t yet have and certainly couldn’t control.
No matter where his ministry took him in the future, no matter where he settled, he wanted to spend a lifetime comforting and protecting this woman. If she would have him.
“I just wanted to thank you,” she said, her eyes burning with silent gratitude. “I don’t know what you said to my father at the hotel, but by the time I sat down he was willing to listen to me, actually listen. More so than he’s done since my mother passed away.”
Beau lifted her hand to his lips, forgetting everything but how soft her skin felt against his palm. “I merely told him you are the most amazing woman of my acquaintance and that he’d regret losing an opportunity to know you.”
“Oh, Beau.” Tears spiked along her lashes.
Like most men, Beau was helpless around feminine tears. But Hannah’s slaughtered him. The reflex to hold her came so fast, so powerful, he had to shut his eyes and pray for strength. He silently counted his heartbeats—one, two, three—until he had control over his baser impulses.
“Hannah, my beautiful Hannah, I can’t tell you how sorry I am for the way I treated you at our first meeting.” He pressed a finger to her lips to prevent her from interrupting him. “I know you’ve already forgiven me,” he began. “I know we’ve moved beyond this, but I still feel the need to make it up to you.”
“You already have.” She smiled at him, that soft lifting of lips that punched him straight in the heart. “You came here with me, knowing my father could take away your new church.”
“That no longer matters.” He was startled by the surge of peace that came with the declaration. “I’ve been fooling myself for so many years, chasing a dream I only thought I wanted. Tyler was the first to help me see the truth.”
“Of all people.” But her eyes told him she didn’t doubt that his brother had helped him. That was part of Hannah’s appeal—her ability to see the good in others, even when no one else could.
It was why he loved her. And, oh yes, he loved her. With all his heart.
And that was why he had to confess all. “I thought if I could settle in a nice church in the meadow, I could win the good people’s support. Their approval. And then, once I’d earned their trust, I would open the doors to others, the outcasts.”
“Oh, Beau, don’t you know how courageous you are?” She patted his cheek.
Such pretty eyes. Such softness.
His stomach did a quick pitch.
When had this woman’s approval become so important to him? Far more important than a shaky dream surrounding an elusive brick and mortar building.
“I’ve always thought I was too stubborn, too arrogant, to be a good preacher,” he said. “I thought if I could find a calm, sedate wife, she would help smooth my rough edges and take the flamboyant son of an actor out of me.”
Her gaze softened with understanding. “You would die in a life like that.”
Home. Family. Permanence. Those were the things he’d always wanted. Still did. He hadn’t realized God would give them to him in an unexpected way. But God had made him wait for his perfect match. In the process, Beau had learned patience. And now, he understood that the best things in life were worth a little delay now and then.
“All this time, I thought I had to prove I was a man of God by fitting into the usual image of what that looks like.”
“Oh, Beau.” She sighed. “You serve so many just as you are—the kind of people who would never learn of God’s mercy if you didn’t teach them.” She cupped his cheek. There was acceptance in her gaze, a quiet understanding that eased his concerns. Hannah Southerland drew feelings out of him no one else ever had.
It was a heady sensation. One he rather enjoyed. And hoped to continue enjoying the rest of his life.
“Did I ever tell you how proud your parents are of you?” she asked. “They speak of you with such love. It would break their hearts if they thought you were unhappy because of them.”
A quick flash of guilt kicked in his gut. He tried to talk and coughed out air instead. Gulping, he tried again. “All this time, I’ve thought of my childhood as a curse. But now I see that the constant travel and inconsistencies, all my dealings with crazy characters on and off the stage, were equipping me to do the work God had planned specifically for my life.”
“You’ve found out who you are.”
“Yes.”
“I’m happy for you, Beau.”
Her gentle tone affected him far more than her words. “There’s only one thing missing.” The hope in her eyes gave him the courage to continue. “Hannah, I want you to be... No.” He stopped himself.
What was he thinking?
After what Tyler and Rachel had done, he couldn’t let impulse drive his actions. Hannah deserved better.
Their future demanded more.
He looked over his shoulder, back toward her father’s house. The lights were still blazing. There was time yet tonight. If he hurried.
“I want to do this right,” he said and touched her cheek. With gentle fingers, he pushed her hair aside and studied her face. “No mistakes. No selfish acts. I must speak with your father first.”
Her eyebrows slammed together, and she tilted her head at a confused angle. “Now? You need to speak to my father at this hour?”
His mouth curved at the sign of her bafflement, and he dropped his hand. “I don’t want to wait until morning.” Surely, she understood what he meant. Surely, she understood why he had to ask her father for her hand in marriage before he asked her. Tyler and Rachel had made propriety all the more necessary.
She took a shaky breath. “But why tonight? I don’t understand the rush.”
“Because I have to...” Fearing time was running out, he stabbed a glance toward her father’s house. Urgency sent his blood screaming through his veins. “We have to go quickly, before he retires for the evening.”
He spun on his heel and made his way back toward the house at a hurried pace.
“Beau, wait.”
She trotted after him.
He slowed his gait to accommodate hers.
“Have you gone mad?” she asked when she caught up.
With a quick flash of teeth, he grinned down at her. “Mad? No. In fact, I’m the sanest I’ve ever been.”
Hannah couldn’t imagine what was taking so long. Her father and Beau had been holed up in the church’s office for well over an hour. What could they possibly be discussing that couldn’t have waited until morning?
Beau had been so agitated earlier.
Weariness swamped her suddenly, made her want to collapse in a puddle of shivers. If only she had someone to help her sort out the confusing facts. But for all intents and purposes, she was alone with her worry.
Mavis had long since abandoned the vigil and had fallen asleep in a chair in the far corner of the parlor, snoring and muttering in her sleep.
Hannah didn’t have the heart to wake the older woman.
When she looked over at her chaperone-turned-friend, a flutter of affection shifted in her stomach. Mavis was a part of her family now. Would Beau be a part of it, as well?
A rush of excitement surged through her at the thought.
Beau had mentioned he wanted to do things right. With Tyler and Rachel running off the way they had, she could understand that desire. But surely Beau wouldn’t ask her father for her hand without speaking with her first. He couldn’t be that dense, that heavy-handed. That...male.
Please, Lord, let me be wrong about this.
But when another handful of minutes passed by, and the door remained firmly shut, Hannah’s fears increased.
She paced.
She worried.
She paced some more.
Looking around the parlor, she took more than a cursory inventory of the room this time. Nothing had changed in the last five years of her absence. The room was still clean. Neat. Unpretentious. Much like her father.
And yet, it had her mother’s stamp on it, as well, left over from all these years. The rose and peony wallpaper had been hung on Hannah’s seventh birthday. The memory of the day when her mother had allowed her to help pick out the pattern still burned in Hannah’s mind. But just as quickly, it skipped away.
Hannah sighed and continued her inspection.
Although the pattern was unique, the brocade upholstery on the furniture matched the colors on the walls seamlessly. The sturdy mahogany chairs and tables, brushed golden from the firelight, brought to mind permanence. Stability. Reminding her of—
The door to the office swung open, and Hannah jumped.
As both men approached, Hannah desperately tried to calm her nerves. She looked from Beau to her father and back to Beau again.
Although they were smiling, there was something in their expressions, something a little too arrogant and a little too masculine, that sent trepidation hovering at the back of her throat.
Beau’s eyes danced with an unreadable look as he took her hands in his. She hated that he was so inscrutable all of a sudden. Something deep inside her, something inherently female, warned her that the ensuing conversation was not going to go well. “Beau? What is it? What’s happened?”
His expression transformed, and he gave her the lazy O’Toole smile that should have warmed her heart. Dread settled hot in her chest instead.
“As soon as I can make the arrangements, we’ll break ground on my new church.”
Hannah’s stomach pitched at the news.
No, Lord, please no. Not this.
She stole a glance at her father, who was watching them with an air of satisfaction.
Oh, Lord, no.
Beau had settled. In spite of what he’d said earlier tonight, he’d settled for a life that would eventually suck his passion for the Lord dry. And yet, his eyes gleamed with joy. She tried to be happy for him, tried to understand. “I... That’s wonderful.”
But it wasn’t wonderful. It was awful.
She loved Beauregard O’Toole, and silently wept over the mistake he was making. Her heart broke a little and she selfishly mourned the loss of her own dream.
Because, no matter what words came out of his mouth next, that new church of his would not include her. Beau might be able to settle. She, however, could not.
“And now, Hannah, your future will be safe, as well,” her father said.
Switching her attention to him, Hannah pulled free of Beau’s grip. “My future?”
She tried to sound haughty, but her voice held a hollow edge even to her own ears. Her world had just turned crooked and off balance, and she had no idea how to set it right again.
Clearly unaware of her disappointment, Beau continued smiling. “What your father is trying to say is that you don’t have to worry about your future ever again. You’ll never be scared and alone.” The look in his eyes was possessive.
And broke her heart a little more.
“But I’m not alone now.” She glanced toward her loyal chaperone, who was stretching and blinking herself awake. “I have Mavis.”
Mavis smiled at her. “That’s right, dearie.” She pounded her birdlike chest with a fist, then released a round of harsh coughs. “You’ll always have me,” she declared once she had herself under control again.
Beau touched Hannah’s arm, and she turned to look at him again. “That’s not what I meant. With me, you’ll never end up like Jane.”
Of course she wouldn’t end up like Jane. She’d already taken care of that herself. But the inflexible look in Beau’s eyes hiked her chin a little higher, and the first threads of despair roped through her blood. Beau looked as though he’d just given her the greatest gift in life—male protection.
Her heart pounded thick with fear.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want his protection. She didn’t need it. Why didn’t he understand that essential truth? After everything they’d been through, Beau didn’t know her. He didn’t know her at all.
Her father cleared his throat and gave her the smile he usually reserved for Rachel. In fact, he looked like the happy patriarch presiding over his brood. “And best of all, you’re going to be a minister’s wife.”
“That’s right,” Beau said. “We’re getting married.”
She opened her mouth, closed it and then said, “Who’s getting married?”
But she knew what he meant. How could he believe all was settled when he hadn’t even asked her the question?
As though she hadn’t spoken, her father added, “Of course you have my blessing.” He turned to Beau. “I think you will make my daughter a fine husband.”
Mavis gasped. Loudly. Then she snorted. Then she mumbled something that sounded like “idiot men.”
At least one other person in the room understood.
Beau couldn’t be doing this to her. He respected her too much not to properly ask for her hand in marriage.
Too stunned to do much more than stare at them both, Hannah responded with a growl in her throat, a furious shake of her head and a narrowing of her eyes.
Still, the idiot men forged ahead.
“Your father will perform the ceremony, of course.”
She gawked at him, terrified of how easy it would be to break down and cry. But the vicious stirrings of pride began weaving through her, and she promised herself she would never cry in front of Beauregard O’Toole. Never.
As though sensing her mood at last, Beau’s shoulders stiffened in alarm. “Hannah?”
She tried to speak, she could even feel her jaw working, but discernible words eluded her. Finally, she said, “Let me see if I have this straight. We’re getting married.” She pointed to her and Beau. “And he’s performing the ceremony.” She pointed to her father.
She held the pause, praying, wishing, hoping either Beau or her father would redeem themselves at any moment.
Which, of course, they didn’t. They both stared at her, eyes blinking in identical displays of confusion.
The ticking of the mantel clock mocked her. Tick, tick, tick went the pendulum. No, no, no went her heart. Wrapping her dignity around her like a shield of armor, she set her chin and held to her silence.
When Beau scrunched his forehead, indicating he was deep in thought, Hannah prayed for a miracle.
Mavis came up next to her and clutched her hand. Hannah held on for dear life. Tears pricked in her eyes. The tears were more from loss of pride than pain, or so she told herself, and that made controlling them so much harder.
In slow, clipped tones that would have sent a sane man running for cover, Hannah broke the silence. “And you two have planned all of this so I won’t end up like Jane.”
Beau’s eyes narrowed, and she saw the exact moment when understanding dawned. His face instantly fell and he raked a shaky hand through his hair. “Hannah, I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, but you did.” Seething anger replaced the hurt. His apology had come too late. The damage had been done. “I thought you said you were sorry for the way you treated me at our first meeting. But I see you truly believe that I will fall into a life of sin without you guarding me against that terrible fate.”
Oh, but this time, this time, he’d hurt her deep at the core—where she trusted most.
“I am sorry. You are a kind, compassionate, Christian woman. You are—”
“A woman who will end up like Jane if left to her own devices?”
Obviously stunned by her vehemence, he blinked. Then blinked again.
Didn’t he understand? “There is no shame in what I am, in what I do. I am a successful actress,” she shouted. “Do you hear me? An actress.”
Mavis snorted. “I certainly heard you.” She clutched Hannah’s hand tighter. “And I don’t blame you for being angry. Not one bit.” She glared at Beau with disappointment in her eyes. “You should know better, boy.”
“You stay out of this,” Reverend Southerland said.
“You stay out of this, as well.” Hannah jabbed a finger in his direction. “This isn’t about you, either.”
Her father lifted himself to his full height. “You are my daughter. And that makes this my business. I’ve turned my back on you for five years. I was wrong to abandon you. You could have been hurt—” he shuddered “—or worse. I can’t allow you to walk out of this house unprotected again.”
“Oh, Father.”
His eyes looked so somber, so full of pain and regret. “Beauregard can protect you as I never did,” he said.
Hannah stared at her father in awe. Wisps of childhood memories flitted across her mind. But tonight, she didn’t see the unforgiving preacher who’d condemned her for her sins. No, tonight, she saw the grieving widower unprepared to care for two young daughters. One too wild for him to handle, the other too weak and needy. She saw a man who had escaped in the safety of the rules and rituals of his religion.
He hadn’t been a bad man. Just a hurting one.
He’d done the best he could. And now, in his own, arrogant way, he was trying to make up for his mistake.
She took a deep breath. And forgave.
“Father, I understand your concern.”
She stopped, shook her head, suddenly very tired, and frightened, and confused. But then, she did something she never thought she’d do in this lifetime. She rushed to her father and hugged her arms around his waist.
He stood rigid at first. With awkward movements, he finally returned her embrace. “I’m so sorry, Hannah.” His voice hitched with emotion.
“Me, too. But, Father, you don’t have to worry about me. I have money. Lots of it. And I own property. And stocks and bonds, too.”
She swung around to glare at Beau, pinpointing all of her turbulent emotions into one seething spark of anger. “When your mother took me in, do you think she only taught me about acting?”
“I—”
“No.” She cut him off. “Patience taught me how to save and invest and manage my money properly, once I started making more than I knew what to do with.”
“I don’t understand.” There was such male confusion in his eyes that Hannah almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
His arrogance had cut her too deeply to stifle her pride now.
“I am a wealthy woman in my own right, Beau. So, you see, I don’t need you.”
Oh, but she lied. She lied, lied, lied. She did need him, needed him like air. But stubborn pride, that evil, evil character flaw that ran deep and wide within her, wouldn’t let her take back her words.
His face collapsed and he reached out his hand to her. All facades were gone. He wore no mask. And no O’Toole charm softened his features. All that was left was raw exposure. “But, Hannah, I need you.”
She lowered her head, unable to bear the pain in his eyes. Her pride wouldn’t release her enough to give him the words he wanted. “Maybe you do need me,” she whispered. “But not enough to ask me to marry you.”
“I did.”
“No.” She sighed. “You told me.”
When he stared back at her and didn’t declare his love for her right away, Hannah knew she’d lost him. No, she thought, she couldn’t lose something she’d never had.
He might think he needed her. But it wasn’t her he needed. It was some ideal woman who would smooth his rough edges.
“Come on, Mavis,” she said, her tone flat. “Let’s go.”
Beau found his voice then. “That’s it?” he asked, a hard steel of anger edging his words. “That’s how this ends? You just walk out on me? Don’t you want to know the particulars of my new church?”
“No.” She turned her back on him, felt his hand hover near her shoulder but then drop without making contact. She desperately wanted to swing around to face him, but she was too proud to let him see the helplessness in her eyes. “It would break my heart.”