01_Gift from the Heart (17 page)

Clare knew that Adam’s demons were powerful. That his father’s legacy had made it difficult for him to show emotion, to let people get close. But she had thought that over the past few months he had begun to overcome that hurdle, to trust her enough to share what was in his heart.

Unfortunately, she’d been wrong.

And as much as she loved Adam, as much as she wanted to be part of this family, she wasn’t willing to settle for anything less than a marriage in which both spouses shared fully in each other’s lives—their joys and sorrows, doubts and hopes, dreams and fears.

And Adam wasn’t there yet.

Maybe he would never be.

The sharp ring of the telephone interrupted that disheartening thought, and Clare padded to the kitchen to pick it up.

“Clare, it’s Nicole. Are you busy?”

“Not really. Just going through some papers. What’s up?”

“I was going to make some chocolate chip cookies, but I can’t get the mixer to work.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do any baking unless I was there.”

“I know. But you’re leaving soon, and I need to figure out how to do it by myself.”

“Is your dad around? Maybe he can look at the mixer.”

“He’s busy. I don’t want to bother him.”

Clare frowned. Adam had called earlier and left a message with Nicole that he wouldn’t be home in time for dinner, and not to wait. So Clare had left him a plate in the oven. She’d heard him pull in about an hour ago, but he must be tied up with some emergency.

“Okay. I’ll be right over.”

Clare shoved her feet into a pair of canvas shoes and tucked her T-shirt into her jeans. She’d already taken her hair down for the night, so she simply ran a brush through it. This shouldn’t take long.

She ran quickly down the narrow stairs. But when she opened the outside door at the bottom, prepared to dash over to the house, she pulled up short, her eyes widening in surprise.

At her feet lay a single long-stemmed red rose.

With a note attached.

Slowly Clare reached down and lifted the fragile blossom, letting her fingers trace the outline of the velvety petals. She looked around. There was no one in sight, but a flutter of the kitchen curtains told her Nicole was in on this. She glanced back down at the rose and flipped open the folded sheet of paper that was attached to the stem.

“Dear Clare, I have never been very good with words or expressing what’s in my heart. Last night is just the latest dismal example. I know I can never make up for botching what should have been a beautiful moment between us. But at least I can try. If you can find it in your heart to give me one more chance, please follow the trail of roses. I’ll be waiting at the end to meet you. The next rose is at the end of the driveway. Yours always, Adam.”

Clare read the note a second time, then carefully folded it and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans. She tried to remain calm, to tell herself this might be another false start that would end just as badly as the first one. But somehow her heart wasn’t listening. A buoyant sense of hope welled up within her, and she lifted the rose to her face to inhale its sweet, intoxicating fragrance.

“Thank you, Lord!” she whispered.

Slowly she made her way down the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath her feet in the stillness of the twilight. And just as Adam had promised, another rose lay at the end, pointing to the right.

Clare picked it up and continued her journey, following the quiet country lane until she came to another rose, which pointed down a barely visible, overgrown footpath that veered off into the woods. She picked that one up as well and set off down the path.

Clare had never been this way before. The path was on private property, so she’d never explored it. And in the rapidly deepening dusk it was harder and harder to see the trail markings. But whenever she began to wonder if she had lost her way, she came upon another rose, confirming that she was still on the right track.

Clare counted the roses as she picked them up, and as she reached for the eleventh one she realized that it was pointing away from the path. With a frown she straightened and peered into the twilight. In the distance she could see a faint, indistinct glow, and she set off in that direction, weaving in and out among the trees.

When at last Clare emerged from the forest, her eyes widened in wonder at the enchanting scene before her. A white lattice arbor stood in a small, moss-covered clearing, backed by a clear, placid jewel of a lake. Inside the arbor were two chairs and a tiny table, draped with white linen. A plate of chocolate-covered strawberries stood in the center of the snowy expanse, with two crystal goblets beside it. The romantic strains of a classical string quartet drifted softly through the air. And there were candles. Dozens of candles. On the table. On the ground. Beside the lake. On stones and tree stumps and fallen logs. Illuminating the scene with golden, ethereal light.

It was magic.

But most magical of all was the man. Adam stood beside the arbor, impeccably dressed in a dove-gray suit, white shirt and silver-flecked tie. He was holding the final rose and gazing at her with an expression that could only be described with one word.

Adoring.

Clare melted.

For a moment the world stopped as their gazes connected. Clare saw in Adam’s eyes exactly what she had always hoped to see. Love. Absolute, complete, unguarded love. He was holding nothing back.

Slowly she moved forward, until she was only a whisper away from him. He handed her the final rose, then lifted her hand to his lips.

Clare’s throat constricted with emotion, and she felt tears of joy sting her eyes. Even though Adam hadn’t yet said a word, she knew that the setting he had created tonight—with help from Nicole, she suspected—had taken him way out of his comfort zone. And gave her hope that he had, at last, found the courage to escape the bitter legacy of his father.

Adam saw the glimmer of tears in Clare’s eyes and reached over to gently lay his palm against her cheek.

“I didn’t plan to make you cry,” he said huskily.

She blinked, then reached up to wipe the back of her hand across her eyes. “Adam, this is…” She gestured around the setting. “I can’t even…” Her voice choked, and she had to stop and take a deep breath. “It’s like something out of a storybook.”

“When a man is blessed with a second chance to ask the woman he loves to marry him, he wants to do it right.”

He took her hand and led her to one of the small white chairs, then gently urged her to sit. The heady perfume of the flowers that filled her arms was something Clare knew she would remember all the days of her life. She would never again inhale the fragrance of a rose without remembering the sweetness of this moment.

Adam went down on one knee and reached for her free hand, his warm brown eyes only inches from hers. “Let me start with an apology, Clare,” he said softly. “Last night was a fiasco, and if I could erase it from your memory, I would. I knew I’d done a poor job, but Nicole pointed out in no uncertain terms just how badly I’d blown it. She read me the riot act, then kept after me until I finally told her what I should have told you. When I got done, she made me write it down so I would be sure to say it correctly tonight.”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. “But you know something? I don’t need this after all. Because these words were in my heart all along. I was just too afraid to say them. I was afraid I’d be rejected or made fun of, which is what my father did whenever I tried to tell him how I felt. That’s a terrible legacy to give a child, and it has been a very, very difficult one to overcome.

“But I finally realized something last night. As long as I let what he did to me continue to affect my life, he still had control over me. And I decided I’m not going to give him that power anymore. Because I also realized that holding back doesn’t protect your heart—it only alienates you from the people you love. It makes you isolated and lonely and empty.”

He paused and drew a deep breath. “Clare, I told you last night that I’d like us to be a family. And that Nicole had come to care for you deeply. Those things are still true. But the main reason I want you to stay is far more selfish.” He looked at her steadily, offering a clear view directly into his heart. “I love you, Clare. I love you more than life itself. And I can’t imagine my future without you. Until you came, I existed in the shadows. I lived life, but only at the edges. I could never find a way to step into the sunlight. But you brought brightness and warmth to my world and gave me the courage to love.”

He paused and reached into his pocket to withdraw a small square box, then flipped open the top to reveal a dazzling, heart-shaped diamond. “I chose this cut because I wanted it to symbolize my promise to you, Clare. For as long as I live, my heart will be yours. And I promise to always do my very best to share and to care and to love. Will you marry me?”

Clare stared at the sparkling diamond as the tears ran freely down her face. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes!”

With unsteady fingers, Adam removed the ring from the box and took her left hand in his. Slowly he slid the band onto her finger. Then he stood and reached for her, drawing her to her feet. For a long moment they gazed at each other, and then his lips closed over hers in a kiss so tender, so full of promise, that she thought her heart would burst with happiness.

And in the moment before she lost herself in his embrace, Clare uttered a simple, silent expression of gratitude to the woman whose loving bequest had given two lonely people a second chance at love.

Thank you, Aunt Jo.

“C
lare, have you talked with Seth Mitchell recently?”

She turned from watering the fern on the front porch to look at Adam, who had just retrieved the mail. “Yes. I called him a couple of days ago—the day after you gave me this.” She held up her left hand with a smile and wiggled her fourth finger. “I told him that I’d completed the nanny assignment but that I was staying to take on a more permanent job.”

Adam returned her smile, and the warmth in his unguarded eyes made her breath catch in her throat.

“That must be what this is about, then,” he said, holding out a letter.

She put the watering can down and reached for the slim white envelope. When she slit the flap, a note fell out, as well as another envelope. Clare quickly scanned the note.

“Dear Mrs. Randall: Your aunt asked that I forward this to you after the six-month period stipulated in her will. My congratulations again to you and Dr. Wright. I wish you great happiness.”

Clare set the note aside and turned her attention to the smaller envelope, which was addressed to her and Adam in her aunt’s flowing hand.

“Adam, this is for both of us. From Aunt Jo.”

He stopped sorting the mail and walked over to her curiously. “Let’s sit on the settee and read it together,” he suggested.

Adam stole a quick kiss before he draped his arm around Clare’s shoulders, and she gazed up at him longingly. “If we keep this up, we’ll never get to Jo’s letter,” he teased.

Clare smiled. “Luckily we have a good chaperone.”

Adam chuckled. “Too true. But I’m counting the days until you’re living under our roof. In the meantime, my daughter is doing her job very diligently.”

Clare nudged him playfully, then turned her attention back to the smaller envelope. Carefully she withdrew the single, folded sheet, then held it out so they could both scan it.

As Clare finished reading the note, she reached up to brush the tears from her cheek. When she glanced at Adam, his eyes were suspiciously moist, as well.

“Did it ever occur to you that Aunt Jo had an ulterior motive for sending me here?” Clare asked softly.

Adam shook his head. “Never.”

“But how could she have known this would happen?”

“Jo was a very astute lady. I guess she knew what we needed even better than we did. And you can’t argue with success.”

Clare smiled up at him tenderly. “I can think of lots better things to do than argue, anyway.”

His eyes darkened, and he reached over to trace the elegant curve of her jaw. “Where’s the chaperone?” he murmured.

“Cleaning up her room.”

“Then we have plenty of time,” he said.

“For what?”

“For this.”

He drew her close, and as his lips claimed hers, Clare prayed that Aunt Jo knew the outcome of her carefully laid plans.

Because the ending wasn’t just happy. It was, as she had hoped, a miracle.