Beside a Dreamswept Sea (17 page)

I am Miss Hattie’s soldier, but for ease, you can call me Tony.

Tony? Suzie’s Tony?
Surprise zipped up Bryce’s backbone, shot through his limbs.

Guilty.

How did she react to hearing you?
The kid must have been scared witless.

She was fine about it. She heard and saw me. Tony chuckled. Children are wonderful. Everything is strange to them so they don’t often get upset at seeing someone they can see through, so to speak. Don’t worry, Bryce. Suzie was totally accepting, and I have to admit I was more than grateful for that. Sometimes acceptance is elusive, if you know what I mean.

I’m glad she was okay about it. She’s suffering through some challenges and she really doesn’t need to be upset.

She’s not upset. You have my word on it. If she had been, I’d have pulled a cease and desist immediately. I’m not into scaring kids. Or anyone else, for that matter.

I’m glad to hear it. With Suzie it’s hard to tell, but she hasn’t seemed rattled. Actually, she’s seemed happy, and kind of secretive. She’s mentioned you
—

A million times in the past three days. Yes, I know.

Are you responsible for her not dreaming?

She is dreaming, Bryce.

But—

She’s dreaming, but she’s not alone. That’s the difference.

You’ve been there with her.

Yes, I have.

Bryce’s eyes stung and tight bands of gratitude cinched down around his chest, making it hard to pull in breaths.
Thank you.

You’re welcome.
Tony cleared his throat.
Now, we’ve got a dilemma to resolve with your Cally Tate.

My Cally Tate? She’s not my—
Bryce halted mid-sentence. The woman lay sleeping in his arms. It sounded ridiculous even to him to deny that at the moment she was his. And, as guilty as he felt in admitting it, there was a tiny flicker inside him that kind of liked the idea.

He squelched it. There was no place in his life for a love interest. He’d been there and done that. What he needed wasn’t a love interest, but a mother—for the kids.

Yet he couldn’t not care about Cally or her plight. What kind of man could?

One like Gregory Tate.

Bryce squeezed his eyes shut.
Can you hear my every thought, Tony?

I’m afraid so. And before you get on a high horse and think it’s rough on you, let me tell you that it’s no picnic for me, either. If a body is inside this house, then I hear every whisper, word, or thought.

You can’t turn it off?

No. And typically, that’s okay. But there are times—like with the battleaxe and her views on discipline, and with Batty Beaulah Favish, the nosy woman next door—I’d give my eye teeth for the ability to shut down.

Acceptance, right?

Right. Beats insanity. Now, about Cally.

Do you know how to fix the problem?

Maybe. Maybe not. Women are tough to figure.

Hell, I was hoping I could look forward to that getting easier.

Tony chuckled
. Sorry to shatter your dreams, but not understanding women is universal.

The worst of it with Cally is that she is desirable. But I agree with you that I can’t just tell her.

She wouldn’t believe you, or any man. Not about that.

Why should she? For fourteen years, Gregory Tate’s pounded it into her head and heart that she’s not desirable—or lovable.

True. True.

So what do I do, then?

Do you really want to help her?

Bryce looked down into her sleeping face, resting against his chest. Her lips parted, her cheek red from pressing against his shoulder. Protective feelings surged from deep inside him to the surface. Like the kids, she was fragile, vulnerable. Unlike the kids, she was a beautiful woman who rallied memories in him that he was more than a father. He owed her for that. And more.
Yeah, I really want to help her.

To get her to believe it, you’re going to have to show her.

Vulnerable.
Oh, God. Wait a minute. I know you’re not talking an affair here.

No, I’m not.

Then what exactly are you asking me to do?

Let her see how she affects you. Tear down your internal guard rails and just let her see. Women have this sense of knowing things. Cally needs to see your reactions and run her sincerity check on them. When she does and she sees you’re sincere, then she’ll know she’s lovable because you’ll have shown her.

You’re asking me to love her?
Crazy. Impossible.

I’m asking you to let her see the truth, whatever it is.

I can’t. I would, I want to help her, but I can’t do that, Tony. I just can’t.

Don’t panic. You can handle it. If you couldn’t you wouldn’t be here.

It’s not handling it that worries me.

What is it, then?

It’s liking handling it.

Meriam’s gone, Bryce. She’s content. And she wants you and the children to be content, too.

She’s content? With—without us?

Acceptance.

Bryce let that truth settle in, not sure what he was supposed to be feeling, but sure as hell certain anger wasn’t it. Yet he was angry. He missed her, envisioned her to get through his days, relived their lives together to get through his nights. And she was content without him? Without any of them?

How was your life together? Really?

Bryce’s mind whirled, slipped back to a celebration dinner years ago. One with Meriam and the kids at the Court of Two Sisters, Meriam’s favorite restaurant, down in the French Quarter.

Suzie nicked her glass and splashed milk onto Meriam’s cuff. Her face mottled red. Suzie’s bleached white. “I’m sorry, Meriam,” she’d said, her voice trembling, her eyes wide with fear.

Bryce hated seeing and hearing both, and interceded. “It was an accident, sweetheart. Meriam knows that.” He looked over, silently prodded her to give their daughter a soothing word.

She didn’t. Meriam blotted at the spot, then tossed her napkin onto the table. “I’ve got to go.”

She always had to go. Whenever anything was less than perfect, whenever there was the slightest ruffle. She’d just . . . leave.

Bending, she gathered her purse. “I’ll be back in a couple weeks,” she told Bryce, then swung her gaze to Suzie. “Try to improve your table manners while I’m gone.”

And she’d walked out of the restaurant without a backward glance, leaving them sitting there, without farewell kisses or hugs or even a token “I’ll miss you.”

What had Bryce felt? Really?

Relief. Anger at her demanding perfection in them, but even more so, he’d felt relief that she was gone and they could all breathe easier again.

It was always that way, Bryce realized. He missed her, honestly. But he was always relieved by the immediate drop in tension in him and the M & M’s when Meriam left.

Tony claimed Bryce’s attention.
That was a more accurate assessment of your marriage, Bryce, and of how life with Meriam was for the family.

She was never really a part of us.
That hurt. Deeply. Yet it had a cleansing effect, too. As long as Bryce lived, he’d never forget the fear in Suzie’s eyes that day. Or his own anger that Meriam didn’t see it and do something to reassure Suzie and put an end to her fear. But she hadn’t. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe that was asking too much from her, after the life she’d been forced to live. Still, Suzie was an innocent, and yet she’d paid the price for Meriam’s not resolving the problem. And Bryce was every bit as guilty. He’d run interference, but not insisted on a resolution. He’d understood, and suffered, too.

Yes, Counselor. You all suffered. But now it’s time to let go of that and of your fantasies of a marriage that honestly never existed. Which, incidentally, brings us back to Miss Tate. Are you going to show her?

Reeling, Bryce forced himself to make the mental shift to Cally. He owed her.
Yeah. Yeah, I’m going to show her.

You’ve got to be sincere, Bryce. She’ll know, if you’re not sincere. Women have radar on that.

If I couldn’t be sincere, then I wouldn’t do it. Hell, Tony, look at her. Who couldn’t be sincere?

Valid point. But I had to be sure. I don’t want her hurt anymore.

Neither did Bryce.
Tony?

Hmm?

Thanks for the assist. I’m a little out of practice at taking cold, hard looks. It’s been a while since I’ve been close to a woman, too.

Tony sighed.
Relax, Bryce. The heart never forgets.

The heart has nothing to do with this.

Ah, I see. Justice, eh?

Yeah, justice.

After Tate, I agree, she’s due a little
.

Yes, she is.
Pride, too. And not from a bottle.

I’ll leave her in your capable hands, then.

Tony had gone. Bryce sensed it, and the heat flooding the hallway confirmed it. Talking with a ghost was odd, but it didn’t seem odd when it was happening. Only afterward, when thinking about it. Maybe it’d be healthiest to just not think about it. To just be grateful T.J.’s friend was helping Suzie and, through Bryce, Cally.

Cally opened her eyes, stared up at Bryce, then pressed her hand flat against his chest. “What’s wrong?”

He shouldn’t tell her. He knew he shouldn’t, but inside him the dam broke. “Meriam’s content without us.”

“What?”

“She’s content without us.”

Cally frowned. “He told you that, didn’t he?”

Knowing she meant Tony, Bryce nodded.

“I’m sorry.” She feathered a hand over Bryce’s jaw. His beard crackled against her palm. “I’m so sorry.”

“I should be happy she’s at peace. I know I should, but—”

“But you’re still angry with her for leaving you. Angry because you’ve got to deal with Suzie and her dreams and the kids not having a mom, and everything else.”

“I guess so.”

“Bryce?”

Thoughtful, mulling over all she’d said, he answered with a “Hmm?”

“What did she do for you and the kids?”

Bryce opened his mouth to answer, then realized he had no idea what to say.

After a day of sunshine
and a trip with the kids to Boothbay Harbor and the train museum, Bryce felt comfortably tired. He got the kids ready for bed, settled in, and Miss Hattie had gone up to bed a half hour ago, still looking disturbed and swearing she was fine. Maybe Vic would know what was wrong with her. In the morning, if she didn’t seem better, Bryce would talk with Vic about it. Or maybe with Tony. He’d know. He said he knew everything here. More at ease about Miss Hattie now that he had a plan, Bryce took up his seat on the hallway floor.

Cally joined him. He schooled the pleasure of her being there from his voice and expression, then looked up at her. “This is becoming a nightly ritual.”

She dropped her pillow and the afghan onto the floor. “Guess so. Why waste all your worrying time alone when you can have company, I always say.”

The opportunity to begin his campaign to prove to Cally she was a desirable and lovable woman had come. “We could do something other than worry.”

She grunted. “Is that a hormone call?”

“Well, it wasn’t, though the idea holds merit.”

“Don’t start.”

A bubble of pleasure tickled his stomach. “Actually, it was a suggestion that rather than just worry, we can worry and see what we can fix.”