The way Grady charmed her formidable grandmother. The tentative smile that hinted at the person April might yet become. The warm welcome by Charlie, the waiter who’d been the first man to hold out a chair for her.
Grady rarely addressed his comments to her, apparently content to keep the conversation flowing so her silence didn’t stand out. But he’d positioned his chair close enough that under the tablecloth his thigh touched hers, and she was certain it was his way of offering support. She found herself drawn to the warmth of that touch, and shifted to increase the contact with its firm, muscled length.
His eyes met hers then, and what she saw rocked the certainties she’d clung to the past eleven days.
“Leslie Craig? Oh, my Lord, it is you!”
A whirlwind in blue clasped Leslie, then held her by the shoulders to get a better look at her. Brown eyes, sheened with moisture and marked by neophyte laugh lines, looked back at her.
“Cathy? Cathy Palmer?”
“Of course it’s me. Though now it’s Cathy McMahon. Kevin walked out on me three years ago—best thing that ever happened to me. Alan and I got married last fall. But this is no time to get into all that.” She flashed a look at Grady that said she’d prefer a time when she could ask questions as well as give information.
Leslie performed the introductions, a little self-conscious, but also feeling a swell of pleasure at introducing Grady.
“And you remember my grandmother
“Of course. It’s wonderful to see you, Mrs. Craig.”
“And my cousin Melly’s daughter, Ap—”
“No, not April!” Cathy gave a groan of mock despair. “I won’t tell you how little you were when I last saw you, but let me say that your looking so grown-up, makes me feel ancient.” April looked both embarrassed and pleased. “It also reminds me, Leslie, just how long it’s been since I’ve seen you.”
“Too long,” Leslie said, and realized she meant it. And the fault was mostly hers. Not only had she stayed away from Charlottesville, but the times Cathy and her then-husband, Kevin, had visited Washington, she’d shied away from seeing them, fearing it would trigger painful memories. Eventually Cathy had stopped trying.
“Entirely too long. So I won’t take no for an answer— you have to come over tomorrow for the pool party we’re having. All of you. My Uncle Talbert is coming, Mrs. Craig, and I know he’d love to see you, and there’ll be lots of kids your age, April. And, Grady, I can promise you there’ll be a number of us who’ve known Leslie forever and would be happy to tell you every deep, dark secret of her past at the drop of a hat.”
“That sounds like an opportunity not to be missed.”
Grady unleashed a grin that made Cathy blink in appreciation.
A surge of panic struck Leslie. Not at Grady being told her dark secrets, but at being reminded of her own bright hopes. “Oh, I don’t think we can. There are some family things that—”
“That can’t be dealt with until Sunday,” Grandma Beatrice interposed smoothly. “Melly won't be back until then, anyhow. We would love to come, Cathy. Just tell us the time and the address.”
“Here, I’ll write down the directions. Come any time after two, and plan to stay for dinner.”
“That sounds great,” said Grady. “That will give us time to visit Monticello in the morning like we’ve been wanting to, Leslie.”
She stared into his eyes and saw absolute determination.
Was Grady out to make her face all her emotional ghosts in one ghastly weekend?
Yes.
Thirty-eight hours later she knew that’s exactly what he’d set out to do.
With the able assistance of her grandmother and, Leslie suspected, the connivance of April, Grady had plunged them into her old social circle, making her face what she’d avoided because she thought it would be too painful.
It wasn’t.
She felt like someone who’d braced for the flare and crash of a firecracker only to have it fizzle. Oh, there were a few twinges. But it didn’t take her long to realize that the wounds left by her failed marriage and its causes had healed for good.
If she’d had any doubts after the trips to Monticello and the campus, followed by the “remember-when” fest that lasted until midnight around Cathy McMahon’s pool, they’d disappeared this morning when she saw Frank and his family.
Slightly suspicious when Grady insisted they go to church and Grandma Beatrice insisted on the ten o’clock service, she still hadn’t expected to see Frank Reddy sitting three pews ahead of them. Even if she’d expected it, she wouldn’t have been prepared for her feelings.
It was like seeing a ghost. She knew she’d once loved that man, had wanted to build a future with him. But she could not, for the life of her, remember why. She felt no pain, no regret, no envy. Only a mild affection.
After the service, Frank spotted her and, after a moment’s hesitation, started toward her. Now Grady was the nervous one. She could feel it humming through his body, although they touched only where his hand cupped her elbow.
“It’s all right,” she said, and meant it.
It didn’t allay the doubt in his eyes. Still, after introductions, he tersely announced he would wait for her at the car, giving her privacy to talk to her ex-husband, the father of the only baby she would ever conceive.
They didn’t talk long and she never remembered the exact words, only the recognition that though they wished each other well they had little to say to each other.
Walking toward the car—and Grady—she found herself hurrying. She saw him before he saw her, and pain twisted through her at the lines of strain on his face. Especially when he wiped away all signs of the tension as soon as he saw her. For all his nonchalance, this weekend was no easier on him than on her.
Sliding into her seat, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you, Grady.”
She couldn’t have articulated what she was thanking him for, so she was glad he didn’t ask. She was also glad the tightness around his mouth and eyes eased.
In silence, they drove to the house for the family conference on April’s future. This wasn’t going to be fun; Melly had already shown a tendency to get defensive and April regressed too easily to sullen silence. But Leslie found great strength in Grady’s presence next to her.
* * * *
“The child’s education is being neglected with this nomad’s life you inflict on her,” Grandma Beatrice declared once they’d reached the meat of the issue.
“Most kids never get the chance to see the things April sees. That’s educational. And you like it, don’t you, honey?”
“I want to stay in Charlottesville,” April said doggedly.
For the first time Melly paused long enough to look at her daughter. “With your great-grandmother?”
Her tone left no doubt Melly wouldn’t have taken that option. And April’s determination did seem to flicker after a glance at Grandma Beatrice. But that redoubtable woman’s frown was aimed at Melly, not April.
“I mean, uh, I’m thinking of you, too, Grandma Beatrice. I mean, what do you want with a teenager around at your . . .”
Silent too late, the word “age” hung in the air.
“I am neither an ogre who would make the child’s life miserable nor so doddering that I do not recognize the ramifications of having her live here, Melanie Ardith.”
Melly flinched at the use of the full name she hated, but didn’t dispute her grandmother. “April needs to have a secure home. A home, not a temporary resting spot. It would be better for all concerned if that home were with her mother, but since you are unwilling to provide that for her, I most certainly will.”
Leslie looked from her grandmother’s austere profile to her cousin’s defensive pout to April’s clenched jaw and tear-bright eyes. She wished she could find something to say to ease the tension, to make them remember the love that tied them together instead of the differences that were driving them apart.
“Sure,” started Grady, as if there’d been no break in the conversation. “And April can come up and see us in Washington. Maybe we can set up something regular.”
“We?” Melly voiced the question they all wanted to ask.
“Uh-huh. Leslie and me. After we get married.”
“Married?”
“Married!”
“Indeed?”
Leslie could have rolled Melly’s, April’s and Grandma Beatrice’s responses all in one, but it still wouldn’t have covered the range of her feelings. She appreciated his strength, but this bordered on strong-arm tactics.
“Yeah, as soon as we get the details worked out—” Just as she was about to point out that those details included his asking and her answering, Grady cut a look at her that numbed her with its heat. “We’ll work out something with Grandma Beatrice. I’ve found a house in Alexandria and it has a great room I think you’d like, April. You can help us decorate it.”
April looked so pleased that Leslie didn’t have the heart to object right then.
“Well, we will have to talk about arrangements,” Grandma Beatrice announced with a look that disapproved of such surprises, but dispensed forgiveness . . . considering.
“But—”
“Of course you will,” Grady interrupted smoothly. “But right now we should head back to D.C. Don’t you have some things to pack, Leslie?”
“You’re right, Grady,” Grandma Beatrice said approvingly. “You don’t want to get to the city too late.”
So Leslie was bundled off upstairs to repack the bag Tris had provided and—between visits from Melly, full of questions, and April, full of excitement—to try to come to grips with Grady and his outrageous announcement. Because nothing had changed . . . or had it?
She’d changed. Certainly in the time she’d known Grady, and especially over these past few days, as he’d shown her that what she’d been running from all these years wasn’t so scary, after all.
And he’d changed. He risked showing what was beneath that golden surface, at least to a selected few. And he gave from his core of strength. He gave generously.
But was that enough when her circumstances and his dreams remained contradictory?
“Your young man is waiting downstairs.”
Grandma Beatrice stood at the doorway, an expectant look on her face.
“Grandma, he’s not my young man. At least, I don’t know if he really is. He just—”
“Oh, yes, he is your young man.” Her grandmother interrupting was amazing. Her grandmother stooping to looking smug was mind-boggling. “Nobody but a fool could miss that in every look he gives you.” Then her expression shifted, and Leslie saw the love and the concern.
“Don’t be a fool and overlook it, Leslie. You deserve happiness, and I believe the two of you can make each other happy.”
Through her own tears she saw Grandma Beatrice was fighting emotion. “Now,” she said briskly after a moment. “Are you finished packing? It’s time you two young people were on your way. I will inform Grady you are on your way down. And while I think of it, there are a few other things I want to tell your young man.”
Smiling despite her doubts, Leslie started to follow, but at the doorway she stopped, slowly pivoting for a final look behind her.
The jewelry box that held her childhood treasures sat alone in the center of the dresser. She opened it without even being aware of crossing the room, and heard the sweet sounds of “Lara’s Theme.” The music wound down as she unhooked the catch of her bracelet watch and let it slip off her hand until it rested with the other mementoes. The final notes unwound to a halt and she closed the cover, feeling a little sad, and very hopeful.
* * * *
If she was trying to drive him crazy, she was damned close to succeeding.
Sitting silent and unreadable next to him while a man tried to drive and pray his future wasn’t about to unravel at the same time was enough to test anyone’s sanity.
Why didn’t she say something?
She loved him; he knew she did, even if he’d never truly been loved before. And, God help him, he loved her. But could he make her see that?
At this rate, he’d never find out.
Abruptly he pulled off onto a side road, around a tree-lined curve, then onto the shoulder.
Still she said nothing.
“I know this was pushy.” His voice sounded like a cement mixer starting up. He cleared his throat. “This whole weekend, calling your grandmother and getting Tris in on it and everything. I know I don’t have any claim on you and I didn’t have any right to do this. But I had to take the chance, Leslie. I thought if you could face the past, then maybe you could accept it.”
“I can accept it.”
“Because if you can’t accept the past, then I guess you’re right, there isn’t any hope of a future for us.”
“I said I can accept it.”
“You can.” He looked at her as he carefully repeated the words, making sure that’s really what she’d said.
“Yes. Because,” she said deliberately and with more courage than he’d ever seen in his life, “if the past hadn’t happened, I never would have met you. And I can’t imagine my life without knowing you. I love you, Grady.”
He let out a breath in a huff of relief and more. But she wasn’t done.
“The question is if you can accept it. You have to think very carefully about that.”
“I have. For the past two weeks I’ve done little else. You were right when you said I was used to getting what I wanted, used to making things come out the way I want. At least some things. But you weren’t right about some other things. One thing I never could get the way I wanted was my parents.” She supposed that trace of sadness would never leave him. “I wish I could, but I’ve accepted it, and I’ve found another family in the Monroes.” His gaze left a shiver on her skin. “And I hope in you.”
When she would have said something, he quieted her with a gentle order. “Listen. First, listen.”
Wishing he could express it better, he tried to tell her what he’d gone through these two weeks apart, and the conclusions he’d reached. He told her about talking to Paul and Alicia. He told her about watching the family welcoming its newest member, and the dark-curled girl. He told her he hoped she’d want to adopt, because he wanted a child now to share the love she’d tapped in him, not to prove he could do a better parenting job than his parents had.