Hearing Laura's hurt so bluntly expressed. Faith hurt for her in turn.
"Have you asked him why he did that?" she asked gently.
Laura answered in an uneasy tone.
"Went to another woman? I think it's obvious."
"Not necessarily. There are reasons why men do things, and being women, we don't always understand. It helps to ask sometimes."
"I can't. It would be too humiliating." "It may not be as humiliating as you think. It may be that what your husband did had to do with him and something he's going through right now. It may have had little to do with you." She paused. When Laura didn't argue, she said, "Talk with him--if not about the affair, then about the divorce. And remember, stay calm. The calmer you are, the more you'll get from him. If he's determined to fight you, that's something we'll just have to face, but for now, the calmer you are, the better."
Stay calm. Stay clam. Those words became a litany in Faith's mind through the rest of that day. Each time she thought of going away with Sawyer, her stomach started to jump. She wasn't sure if it was excitement or nervousness, and she didn't stop to analyze which. She simply repeated the litany in her mind and went about doing everything she had to do to free herself up for Saturday and Sunday.
Actually, if it hadn't been for that jumping stomach, she'd never have made it out of bed when her alarm rang at five-thirty Saturday morning. She hadn't been able to fall asleep until after one, which meant that she was sleeping soundly when the alarm went off. It was pitch-black outside, still night in her book, but the instant she realized why she was getting up so early, her body came to life.
Quickly she showered, dried her hair and applied the lightest possible sheen of makeup. After pulling on a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweater, she put a change of clothes into an overnight bag, along with whatever else she decided she'd need for a rustic sleepover. She was zipping the bag when the doorbell rang.
Sawyer looked stern, dark and tired. She was certain something awful had happened to him, but when she asked, he merely shrugged.
"I
couldn't sleep. " He straightened from the doorjamb which had been bearing the brunt of his weight.
"Actually that's a lie. I purposely kept myself awake most of the night so that I'd be too tired to do anything tonight."
Faith closed her eyes to his self-mocking look.
"Oh, Sawyer."
"You said it was my responsibility, so I'm making good on it." He reached for her bag.
"Is this it?"
"We're only going overnight."
"But overnight usually means three changes of clothes, two jackets, boots, sneakers and flats, a makeup case, a hair dryer, a curling iron, a vacuum cleaner" -Faith swept past him into the hall, tugged him out by the arm and slammed the door. She didn't say another word until he'd tucked her into the passenger's seat of his racy black Porsche.
"Some car," she breathed, running a hand lightly over the butter-soft leather covering the seat.
"Is it new?"
Sawyer took a deep breath. He knew he was being a pill, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He'd stayed up most of the night thinking of Faith, so not only was he tired, but his body was tight.
It hadn't helped that he'd slept through his alarm. He'd had time for nothing but a record-fast shower. What he needed was coffee and fresh air.
"I got it six months ago," he said as he rolled down his window.
"Usually I rent a pickup when I drive to the Cape. I need the space in back for tools and stuff."
"Why didn't you this time?"
"I wanted to impress you with the Porsche."
Studying his profile, she saw that he wasn't joking. She didn't know whether to yell at him or be pleased. In lieu of either, she said, "I'm impressed. But what are you going to do when you need the space for tools and stuff?"
"I won't this trip. Everything I need is already at the house." He shot her a quick glance, the first softened one since he'd arrived.
"Did you have any trouble getting up?"
His glance warmed her. Still, she wasn't about to say that she'd jumped right out of bed in anticipation of seeing him, so she shrugged.
"It'd be nice if the sun came up."
"It's coming," he said, and once they cruised their way free of the city buildings, she could see that it was. A faint strip of lavender lay on the eastern horizon with promise of daylight. She found that reassuring. When things were dark, the confines of the car were more intimate, and intimacy wasn't something she wanted to encourage.
They headed south on the expressway. Not long after they'd left the city, Sawyer took a short exit and pulled in at a coffee shop. ' "Black with one sugar?"
"Good memory."
"I'll be back."
Several minutes later he returned with two large coffees, a bag of donuts and more napkins than they'd use in a year. "Are you stocking up for the house?" she teased.
Sawyer didn't answer until he'd taken several healthy swallows of coffee. The fresh air had helped when it came to mellowing his mood;
he was relying on caffeine to do the rest.
"They're for the car. If something spills, I want to be able to clean it up."
Faith knew how things were between a man and his car.
"Ahhh," she breathed in understanding, then pulled a honey-dipped donut from the bag and took a bite.
Sawyer demolished three in the time it took her to eat one.
"I'm getting a refill of coffee. Want one?"
"No, thanks. This is fine."
He left the car, returned with a fresh cup of coffee, tore the cover enough to allow him to drink, then started the engine and returned to the road.
"How long will it take to get there?" she asked.
"An hour and a half. There won't be any traffic this time of day."
"I wonder why not," she murmured, but teasingly. With donuts filling her stomach and the warm smell of coffee filling the car, she was beginning to relax. Sawyer was a good driver. The car was a beauty.
The dawning day was clear and bright. At that moment she was very glad she'd come.
The feeling was every bit as strong when Sawyer finally turned the Porsche off the main road onto the private one that wove through his property. Framed on either side by broad-leaved trees and shrubs, it narrowed, turned from hardtop to gravel and grew bumpy. He swore and slowed the Porsche to a crawl.
"Don't worry about me," Faith said, trying not to smile as she looked at him.
"I don't mind the bumps." When he didn't answer, she gave in and laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"You. You look like you're in agony."
"lam."
"You're worried about the car. Don't be. Sawyer. It'll survive. What are shock absorbers for, anyway?"
Returning her gaze to the front window, she couldn't contain her surprise.
"Sawyer?"
He was pulling up at a most unusual structure. Turning off the engine, he curved both hands over the top of the steering wheel.
"This is it."
She let out her breath in a thoroughly confused, "Ahhh."
"What do you think?"
"I think ... that you're right. The setting is great. The land is gorgeous, lush even this late in the season. Are those apple trees over there? But where's the lake? You said you were on a lake." She opened the door of the car and climbed out.
"Is it behind the... house?" She took off in that direction, but she hadn't gone more than three steps into the soft grass when Sawyer caught her hand.
"You don't like it," he said.
"I think it's great."
"I'm not talking about the land. We both know that's great. But what about the house?"
She forced herself to focus on the building. It was tall, round and covered with aged bricks.
"It looks like a water tower."
"That's what it is."
"But you called it a house." "If a house is denned as a place to live in, this is a house. Come on. I want you to see the inside."
Faith allowed herself to be led to a doorway that looked as though it might crumble on the spot. The doorjamb was rotted and hanging off on one side. It was a miracle that the door stayed shut.
Not only did it stay shut, but it wouldn't open--at least, not until Sawyer pushed hard.
Inside, all was dark. Sawyer seemed to know what was where, though, because within seconds he produced a hurricane lamp and lit it.
Holding it aloft, he guided her into the center of the room.
Cautiously, staying close enough to him to feel the reassuring warmth of his body. Faith looked around. The room was larger than she'd expected and empty save for Sawyer's roofing material piled to one side and a network of pipes that snaked up its walls. Those walls were of the same exposed brick as the exterior, and looked nearly as weathered. The floor was concrete, dirty and cracked. There wasn't a window in sight.
"This place is spooky," she whispered.
"But it has promise." Still holding her hand, he led her forward.
They were nearly on top of the far wall before she made out a door.
Pushing it open. Sawyer led her into an annex that she hadn't been able to see from outside. It was rectangular, narrower than the water tower but deeper, and had windows, wallpapered walls, planked floors and a fireplace.
While it wasn't Versailles, it was a decided improvement on the water tower. She let out a breath.
"Better. Much better."
Extinguishing the hurricane lamp. Sawyer set it aside. He took a long tube from the painted mantel above the fireplace, tipped out its contents and unrolled what were clearly an architect's plans for the renovation of the place. Spreading the plans on the floor, he began to explain them to her.
By the time he was done, Faith was sitting cross legged beside him feeling the fool for her shortsightedness.
"You're right," she admitted.
"It does have promise. Once windows are cut in the water tower and a sleeping loft is built above the living room, it'll be completely different."
Sawyer looked around the annex.
"Once the door is widened and this place is gutted and rebuilt with modern kitchen and bathing facilities, it'll be even more different. I agree, it's pretty depressing right now. But there was something about it that appealed to me right away--maybe its isolation, or the woods or the lake, or the uniqueness of the whole thing. I guess that was it. The uniqueness." He gave Faith a smile that melted whatever chill may have seeped into her from the innards of the tower.
"Who else do you know who can say that he lives in a converted water tower?"
"Not a soul." She looked back at the plans and grinned.
"Not a soul.
Unique is the word, all right. "
"So you think I should go ahead with it?"
Her grin lingered when she raised her eyes to his.
"Definitely. I think it's a super project."
"Don't think I should torch it?"
"You can't. Brick won't burn."
Other things could, though, and Faith suddenly grew aware of them--Sawyer's brown eyes darker than they'd been but warmer, heating her cheeks, her mind, her blood. She could do without that kind of burning, too.
Scrambling to her feet, she brushed off the seat of her pants. "Are we working?"
"We're working."
"Let's get to it, then. From the looks of those plans, there's plenty to do."
Oawyer didn't plan to do all the work himself. He would have liked to, but he knew his limitations. For starters, time was a factor. At the rate of two weekends a month, it would take him years to make the place livable. He wanted to be able to enjoy it before that. And then there was the matter of skill. He was a lawyer, not a carpenter or a mason or a millworker. He knew how to reshingle a roof, how to refinish floors, how to miter moldings, even how to install cabinets, but when it came to carving windows through brick, wiring an electrical system, designing a heating system and installing new plumbing, he was willing to yield to the experts.
He told Faith as much when they took a break for lunch, which consisted of burgers at a diner on the way into town.
"There's no point in doing it if it isn't done right. I don't want to end up with something that will blow apart when the first coastal storm hits."
Faith had spent a good part of the morning in and out of the water tower, first relaying shingles up to Sawyer, then trying to familiarize herself with the tower so she wouldn't shiver each time she walked in. Putting a jacket over her sweater helped beat the chill; she wasn't quite as successful fighting the heeby-jeebies.
' That water tower would withstand an assault by Attila the Hun," she maintained in a wry tone of voice.
Sawyer grinned.
"Solid, huh?"
His grin was filled with pride, but it wasn't pride that suffused Faith's insides with a now familiar heat. It was the grin itself, a slash of lips and teeth that was a little curious, a little daring, a little wicked and very, very masculine. And the grin came often. With the drive behind them, with Sawyer fully awake, with the worst of his frustration expended on the roof, he was in the best of moods.