“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tory stood on the dock late the next afternoon, watching as Adam pulled the covers off the boat’s seats. He didn’t look happy to be taking her to see Angel Isle, the site of the dolphin’s disappearance. And after the shock they’d received the night before, she could hardly blame him.
“It’s no trouble.”
Adam’s words were his usual response to helping someone. She’d heard him say that a dozen times since she’d been in Caldwell Cove. No trouble, he’d say with that boyish smile, regardless of the request.
Unfortunately taking her to Angel Isle was a problem for him, and they both knew it.
Clayton’s revelation had blown up in their faces. She suspected Adam still hadn’t come to terms with the idea that his father had not only taken the dolphin, he’d also informed on his brother.
Jefferson couldn’t have foreseen the results of that angry act. It wasn’t his fault that Clayton had climbed on that woodpile, but still, in some way, he must feel responsible. Clayton had to deal with a lifelong disability, and as for Tory’s mother—she winced at the image of young Emily, screaming, being dragged away after seeing the boy she loved lying hurt, probably fearing he was dead.
It was small wonder Emily had never been able to forget. They all still felt the repercussions of that night, fair or not.
She leaned against the dock railing, looking at the water and letting the sun dazzle her eyes, making a reasonable excuse for any unwanted tears.
That night had changed her mother’s life. She tried to shrug the tightness out of her shoulders at the thought of Emily, dragged from her summer romance, feeling guilty over what happened with the dolphin, grieving the loss of Clayton.
Was that the seed that had sprouted into drinking and depression? Or would something else have precipitated her mother’s problems if that hadn’t? Tory would never know.
Adam pressed the lever that lowered the boat into the water, and Tory tried to let the whir of the motor drown out all the voices in her head. The boat settled gently, rocking with the tide, and he shut the motor off. The screech of a laughing gull broke the momentary silence, and she realized she had to try again.
“Adam, I’m sure you have other things you need to do. I can get someone else to run me out to Angel Isle. Or we can go another time.”
His brows lowered in annoyance. “If you’re going, I’m taking you,” he said shortly. “Hop in.”
That seemed to be that. She stepped onto the catamaran’s seat, then the deck, trying to keep her stomach from misbehaving at the rocking movement. She hadn’t been on a boat since her childhood, and she didn’t want to disgrace herself in front of Adam. Although it hardly seemed likely he could regard her as more of a nuisance than he already did.
“Daddy, Daddy!” Jenny’s voice, accompanied by the sound of running feet, stopped his hand as he reached toward the starter. The child raced toward them along the tabby path from the house, Miz Becky behind her. “Stop. I want to go.”
Adam leaned on the windscreen, watching his daughter as she reached the dock. “Jenny, I’ve already told you that you can’t go this time. Ms. Tory and I have work to do.”
Jenny grabbed the dock railing, teetering as if about to jump into the boat. “Dad-dy!” It was a plaintive wail. “Take me.”
“Jenny.” His tone was a gentle warning. “We’ve had this conversation before.”
Her bottom lip came out. “I don’t want you to go with Miz Tory. You went with her last night.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about? We all went to the picnic.”
Jenny’s lips trembled. “You went for a walk with her all by yourselves. And my mama was lots prettier than she is.”
The child’s words seemed to hit Tory right in the heart. Surely Jenny didn’t think…
She backed away from the rest of that thought. Her cheeks had to be scarlet, and all she wanted to do was climb right out of that boat and disappear.
But Adam pinned her in place with a single glance. He swung onto the dock, and the power of his push set the boat rocking. He squatted to bring his face level with his daughter’s.
“Jenny, there is never a good reason to make a guest in our house feel uncomfortable. I’m embarrassed by your behavior.”
His voice was firm, sounding a note of regret and disappointment. He took both the child’s hands in his, the touch loving.
“I know my girl doesn’t like to behave that way, does she?”
“No, Daddy.” Jenny’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
He put his arm around her. “It’s Miz Tory who deserves your apology, sugar.”
Jenny looked at her, blinking back tears. “I’m sorry, Miz Tory.”
She wanted to protest, wanted to explain that Jenny was wrong, that her daddy wasn’t interested in Tory in any way that required a comparison with the child’s mother. But she couldn’t.
“It’s all right, Jenny,” she said softly, and blinked back a tear.
Adam nodded toward Miz Becky, who waited at the end of the dock. “Go on back to the house with Miz Becky, now. We’ll go out in the boat together another day.”
Jenny threw her arms around his neck in a throttling hug. Then she ran to the waiting housekeeper.
So that was what a father was like. Tory turned away so Adam couldn’t see her tears as he dropped into the boat. That was how a real father handled his child when she disappointed him—with love, with fairness, without blame. A sudden longing for something she’d never had filled her, so intense it almost made her gasp.
By the time she’d gained control of her emotions, Adam had started the motor and begun easing the boat away from the dock.
“Adam—”
He shook his head. “Leave it, Tory.”
She had no choice but to obey as he turned the boat seaward. His hands were tight on the wheel as he eased through the no-wake zone near the docks. Once clear of the area, he accelerated.
The speed pressed Tory back on the bench, and the motor’s roar drowned anything she might have found to say. Adam was taking his frustration and embarrassment out in typical male fashion—speed and noise.
She settled a little more comfortably on the bench seat. She might as well enjoy the ride. Adam probably wouldn’t slow down until he’d gotten the emotions out of his system.
The boat rocketed around the curve of the island, passing the long, low yacht club with its cluster of white boats at the dock. Her gaze traced the steps she’d gone up with such anticipation the night she’d met Adam. There’d been nothing but dread filling her when she’d run down them hours later.
She shook her head, lifting her face to the wind that whipped her hair into tangles. Let the ocean breeze blow the ugly thoughts away. She couldn’t go back and change the past. She could only try to make amends by fulfilling her promise.
The boat bounced over waves as Adam took the turn into the sound between Caldwell Island and the fringe of barrier islands that protected it from the open ocean. He eased back on the throttle. The roar of the motor softened to a purr, and Tory’s stomach seemed to catch up with the rest of her.
“Dolphin Sound,” he said, and he pointed to the waves. “And there are the dolphins it’s named for.”
She leaned forward, seeing nothing but the shimmer of sun on water at first. Then a silver shape lunged into the sunlight only feet from the boat. The dolphin balanced on its tail, seeming to smile at her. “He’s beautiful.” She grabbed her sketch pad.
“Yes.” He let the boat rock gently. The dolphin slipped beneath the waves, then surfaced farther away. “I never tire of watching them.”
“You couldn’t.” The graceful shape, water sheeting from its back, formed under her pencil. “I can’t do it justice.”
Adam left the wheel, coming to look at the sketch. He braced one hand on the seat back behind her, his arm brushing her shoulder and sending waves of warmth through her. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and his tanned strength stole her breath.
“I think you’ve captured the essence, the way you did with Jenny on the swing. You’re very talented, Tory.”
She shook her head, reminded of the wooden dolphin and all it meant. Had its carver been satisfied he’d captured that grace and power in his work? He must have been, if he’d been willing to give his creation to the church.
She glanced at Adam, wanting to say something about the dolphin carving. He was frowning at the sketch pad.
“What is it? Did I get it wrong?”
“You got it right.” He shook his head. “I was thinking about Jenny. I’m sorry about the way she behaved. She obviously thought…”
She could understand why he didn’t want to finish that sentence. “She misunderstood what was happening, that’s all.”
“I’ll talk to her. Make her see that we don’t have that kind of relationship.”
And what about the night you kissed me, Adam? What did that mean?
Nothing, obviously.
“I think that would be a good idea,” she said carefully. “She needs to understand the situation between us so she won’t be upset when we need to spend time together.”
He straightened, standing between her and the sun. “She shouldn’t be upset in any event. Just because I haven’t dated in the last four years doesn’t mean I won’t sometime.”
She wanted to say she understood how Jenny felt. Wanted to say she’d been there. But if she started talking about her reactions to her father’s death and her mother’s remarriage, where would it end? She might give away more of herself than she’d bargained for.
“You’ll make her understand,” she said finally. “You’re a good father.”
Adam looked at her for a long moment, his gaze probing. Then he managed a half smile. “I try.”
He turned to the wheel and started toward the small island across the sound. The moment she could have opened up to him was gone.
The dolphins were gone, too. A sense of loss touched her as she watched them move toward open ocean. They seemed—she struggled to formulate the thought. Somehow the dolphins symbolized this place and these people, living off the sea, moving in tune with the tides. The carved dolphin had been a fitting symbol of God’s providence for the people of the island.
The small island on the horizon grew as they approached it, changing from a smudge against the sky to a mosaic of green and gold.
“Angel Isle.” Adam slowed the boat as they approached a tangle of lush green undergrowth jutting into the water. He rounded it. Beyond the junglelike growth stretched a crescent of sandy beach backed by loblolly pines, live oaks and crepe myrtle, untouched and unspoiled.
Tory’s breath caught at the sight. “It looks like Eden.”
He cast her an approving glance. “I’ve always thought so.” He cut the motor, and the catamaran bumped gently against a mossy dock. “Angel Isle has belonged to the family for generations.”
“You’re lucky.”
“We are.” Some emotion shadowed his face briefly. Was he thinking that Angel Isle hadn’t been lucky for the Caldwell brothers one particular night? Whatever it was, he seemed to shake the feeling off as he tossed a rope around the dock’s post.
“Come on.” He climbed out with that deceptively easy grace and reached down to help her. “Let’s have a look at the site of the infamous party.”
Her determination to come here suddenly seemed as foolish as looking at the rental house. “There won’t be anything to see after forty years.”
“No, I suppose not.” He led the way off the dock and started up a path through the undergrowth. “Still, not much has changed. You’ll be able to see what it was like.” He paused, nodding toward the dock. “That hasn’t changed. Unless they came in something small enough to pull onto the beach, they tied up there.”
She tried to visualize it. Young people—kids, really—scrambling out of their boats with towels, blankets, hampers, intent on nothing more than a good time. Probably for her mother the excursion had been even more exciting because she’d known her father wouldn’t approve.
“Does your family come here often?” Did his father come back? That was what she really wanted to ask, but she couldn’t quite.
Adam shrugged, and she suspected he knew what was in her mind. “In the olden days, the Caldwell clan summered here. Before air-conditioning everyone headed for the outer islands if they could.”
Her father’s family had summered on Tybee Island, off Savannah. Those must have been happy times, but she could barely remember.
Adam brushed a gnat away from her face. “Let’s go inside before you get bitten.” He led the way around a last clump of crepe myrtle. “Here’s the cottage.”
She stopped next to him. It wasn’t a cottage at all, not that she’d expected it to be. The long, two-story building, its gray shingles merging into the gray-green background of trees and Spanish moss, stretched out a welcoming porch to them.
“I guess from what Clayton said the house was here when they had the party.”
Adam nodded. “It’s sat in that spot since the mid-1800s. Added onto and propped up now and then, but otherwise just the same. A summer haven for all the Caldwells. Uncle Clayton actually owns the island, but we all use it.”
Her imagination peopled the porch with a young version of her mother, the golden girl, and the two boys who’d loved her.
“Your uncle said Emily was in the kitchen. If that’s where she and your father talked, that must be where the dolphin was at the time.”
“Let’s have a look.” The words sounded casual, but she could feel the tension in his hand as he touched her elbow to lead her up the steps. He unlocked the door and ushered her inside.
“You’re welcome to look around the kitchen all you want.” He moved away from her quickly to throw open a shutter. “But there have been a few thousand meals cooked in there, probably, since that night. You won’t find anything.”
A shaft of sunlight pierced the window, touching the wide plank floor, the hooked rug, the massive fireplace. Chintz-covered couches sat in front of crowded bookcases. The warm, welcoming room seemed to say that people had been happy here, despite the disturbing events of one particular night.
“Adam—” What could she say? That she had to see for herself? He must already know that.
The swinging door probably led to the kitchen. She pushed through it and found herself in a square, open room. The counters were topped with linoleum, faded from years of scrubbing. White wooden cupboards, glass-fronted, showed off a mismatched assortment of enough dishes to feed an army. Probably every time someone in the family bought something new, the old set went to the cottage.
“I’m afraid there’s no place here where something could be hidden.” Adam leaned against the door frame, his easy smile saying he’d gotten his momentary irritation under control.
She flipped open a bottom cupboard door at random to display neatly arranged pots and pans. The Caldwells kept a clean cottage, regardless of how much or how little time they spent here.
“I guess you’re right. If it had been here, someone would have found it by now.” She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sure there are no secret passages or hidden cupboards?”
His face relaxed. “We spent some time looking for one on rainy days when we were kids, believe me. We were inspired by all those Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew mysteries on the shelves. Never found a thing.”
“What’s back here?” She pushed open the door on the other side of the kitchen to reveal a long room whose walls of windows seemed to invite the outdoors in.
“Game room, I guess you’d call it.” Adam came to stand behind her, nodding to the table-tennis outfit and card tables. “I don’t think this addition had been finished that summer, though. Maybe that’s what Clayton meant when he talked about the lumber pile.” Pain flickered in his eyes, and he seemed to force it away. “The kids are in and out of the closets all the time for games and toys, anyway.”
“What was here before?”
“Nothing, as far as I know.” He frowned. “I’m sorry, Tory. Judging from what Clayton said, most of the party must have centered outside. I’m afraid there’s nothing to find here. Except—”
“Except what?”
He shrugged, still frowning. “I guess I just look at the place with different eyes after hearing about that night.”
“I can see how that would be.” She hesitated, wondering if she could say anything that would make him feel better about what they’d learned. “I’m sorry. About what your uncle said last night, I mean. I know it wasn’t an easy thing to take.”
“Easy? No.” His lips tightened. “I’ve always known what my father’s like, though. I love him, but I know he doesn’t have the…” He shook his head as if he had to struggle to go on. “He doesn’t have the same standards as the rest of the Caldwell clan.”
“As you do,” she said softly, knowing that was true. Adam was an honorable man all the way through.
He shrugged. “Funny, isn’t it? My brother dealt with his feelings by rebelling. Before he left for college, our family life seemed to be one long shouting match for a while.”
“You don’t handle things that way.”
“Nothing so dramatic for me. I was the buffer between Matt and our father. Between Dad and the rest of the family, for that matter.”
She was almost afraid to breathe, afraid to disrupt the flow of his words.
“You still are, aren’t you?” she said softly.
The lines around his eyes deepened. “Someone has to be.”
“I guess so.” Pain laced her words. “Or else the family just blows apart.”
Adam put his hand lightly on her shoulder, his intent gaze focusing on her as if he looked into her heart and saw the hurt there. “That sounds like personal experience speaking.”
She wanted to back away, make some excuse, change the subject. But he’d opened up to her, and that couldn’t have been easy for him. She knew more about the skeletons in Adam’s family closet than anyone else did. It wasn’t fair to shut him out of hers.
“My father’s family never approved of my mother. After his death, they wanted her to let them raise me.” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “When she wouldn’t, they washed their hands of us.”
He blinked. “They must have kept in touch with you even if they didn’t like Emily.”
“Not a word. Not even a card on my birthday.” She shrugged, trying to pass it off casually, as if it didn’t still hurt. “I guess they figured losing me was a small price to pay for getting rid of her.”
His grip on her shoulder tightened. “There may have been things at work you didn’t understand as a child.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that?” The anger flared suddenly, startling her. “I wasn’t a child when I graduated from high school. My grandmother came to see me. She made me an offer. They’d pay my university expenses and bring me into Savannah society. All I had to do was promise to stay away from my mother.”
He didn’t respond for a long moment. Was he embarrassed? She never should have said anything.
“She was stupid,” he said finally.
Surprise brought her gaze up to meet his. “Why do you say that?”
He touched her cheek, the sensation featherlight but filled with a power that stole her breath away. “If she’d known anything about you, she’d have known what your response would be. She’d have known that someone who’d agree to her bargain wasn’t worth anything.”
“She didn’t see it that way.” Tory could still see her formidable grandmother, eyes cold as a glacier when she’d announced her terms. “Funny. I guess I knew even then that I wasn’t going to be able to save my mother from herself. But I sure wasn’t going to abandon her for the sake of that woman’s money and position.”
Love with strings attached, that was what her grandmother offered. There were always strings attached. She might not have known a lot about people then, but she’d known she wouldn’t settle for that.
“I’m sorry.” His palm flattened against her cheek, cradling it. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I didn’t mean to bring back hurtful memories.”
She tried to smile, but the pressure of his skin against hers seemed to have paralyzed the muscles. “We seem destined to do that to each other.”
He shook his head. “We shouldn’t.” He barely breathed the words as he leaned closer.
He was going to kiss her. She should move, back away, say something. This wasn’t a good idea. But she couldn’t move. No matter how foolish it was, she wanted to be in his arms.
He was going to kiss her. Adam had a brief, rational instant when he knew this was a mistake. Then common sense was swamped by the need to hold her in his arms. He tilted her face up. Her eyes were dark with conflict, but she didn’t pull away.
He drew her closer and covered her lips with his. Her mouth was warm and sweet and willing, and the sensation filled him with longing and need. He felt her hands slip up his back to his shoulders, holding him more fully. He was dizzy with wanting her, but he knew, bone deep, that it was more than that. He’d never felt such a need to protect, to comfort, to love.
The thought set alarm bells clanging in whatever was left of his mind. This was a mistake, a big one. He couldn’t let himself think about loving any woman. He’d been there, he’d done that and he’d paid the price. And even if he could love again, it wouldn’t be Tory. Too much complicated history stood between them.
He drew back slowly, reluctantly. Tory’s eyes were dazed, and she braced her hands against his forearms as if he were her anchor.
He should say he was sorry, but he wasn’t. Even if there could never be anything between them, he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her once.
Twice, a little voice in his brain reminded him. Three times, if you count the night you kissed Cinderella at the yacht club dance.
All right, she had an effect on him. He’d recognized that from the start, hadn’t he?
Still the emotion had blindsided him as much as it had her. He brushed a strand of dark hair from her cheek. “I didn’t see that coming.”
She blinked, and her eyes no longer seemed dazzled. “No, I… It’s all right.” She tried to smile, seemed to gather her armor against rejection.
He couldn’t let her think— “Tory, it’s not you. I just can’t get involved.” He couldn’t explain to her what he didn’t understand himself.
“I know.” Her voice was soft. “You’re not ready for anyone else. You’re still in love with Lila.”
Her innocent words struck him like a blow. The truth beat at his brain as if demanding to be let out.
It had been one thing to let Tory believe a lie when she’d walked into his life. He’d been acting purely out of self-preservation. But now—now that he knew her, now that she’d opened up her own painful secrets to him—now it wasn’t right.
“I have to tell you something,” he said abruptly before he could talk himself out of it. “About my wife.”
She blinked again. Whatever she’d been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. “What about her?” She took a step back and bumped into the door frame.
“You think I oppose this memorial window because of grief.” He forced the words out. You think that’s why I can’t let myself care for you.
“I know.” Pain darkened her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
His jaw clenched. “It’s not grief. I don’t want a window to memorialize a lie.” The words he’d held back demanded to be said. “Lila was leaving us when she died. She was leaving Jenny and me to go with another man.”
Tory stared at him, eyes wide with shock. “But everyone I’ve spoken with thinks—”
“Everyone thinks what I’ve let them think. Everyone thinks Lila and I were madly in love. Just like I did.”
The harsh words tasted of bitterness. He walked away from her because he couldn’t be still, ending up with his hands braced against the worn kitchen counter.
It was silent in the old house, so silent he could hear the trill of a mockingbird in the distance. Then Tory’s footsteps crossed the floor behind him. Stopped.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone the truth?” She sounded as if she struggled to understand. “Isn’t it hard to pretend?”
“Hard? I’ll tell you what would be hard.” He swung to face her. “Hard would be letting my daughter know her mother was willing to give her up so she could run off with another man.”
“Jenny.” He heard her breath catch on the name.
“Jenny,” he repeated. “She can’t know that, ever. If that means I have to let all of Caldwell Cove grieve with the heartbroken widower, that’s what I’ll do.”
Tory lifted one hand as if she wanted to touch him, comfort him. Then she let it drop. Maybe she realized how futile that effort would be. Nothing could comfort this. “Lila’s mother doesn’t know, does she?”
“I don’t think so. If she did, I don’t think she’d want to have the memorial here in Caldwell Cove.”
“I’m sorry.” She sounded helpless. “I understand. But what can we do about it?”
“I don’t know.” For the last four years he’d known what he had to do and he’d gone on putting one foot in front of the other. Now, suddenly, because of Tory, he didn’t know.
“I don’t know,” he said again. “I just know I can’t walk into church every Sunday and look at a window memorializing a lie. I can’t do it, Tory.”