The Goodbye Groom

It should have been a meaningless, accidental touch, a mistake in the darkness. Yet it sent a disconcerting warmth all through her, made her draw in her breath. Dismayed, she found herself gazing up at him. But he was still enclosed by the shadows, not even the light spilling from the windows of the house able to reach him.

Then, just as suddenly as it had happened, it was over. He stepped back, murmured a good-night, and she was on her way toward the house, her bare, damp feet moving across the stones of the patio, her sandals dangling from her hand. Her breath still rose and fell unsteadily.

Surely it had only been the effect of wine and weariness and heartache. She’d been left at the altar—no wonder all her reactions seemed heightened. But she didn’t need to spend any more time with the groom’s brother.

What she needed was to find the groom.

THE NEXT MORNING Jamie zipped up her duffel and swung her carry-on bag over her shoulder. This was the sum total of her luggage. She’d always been the type to travel light—and yesterday even more so. Racing to catch a runaway fiancé, a person had a tendency to ignore the finer details of packing.

She couldn’t stop now. She’d come this far to demand her explanation from Shawn and she had to keep looking for him. She needed to learn the truth or she’d have no hope of getting on with her life.

Why did you walk out on me? Why did you leave, just like my dad all those years ago…?

He wasn’t here to answer her questions. That was why she had to take the next step—go to Seattle. Mrs. Braddock, in her sensible, straightforward manner, had suggested last night that Shawn would be found there. Consequently, Jamie had fortified herself with her favorite dress, a tailored style in turquoise silk.

Now she went quickly down the stairs and out of the house to the driveway, where a dark blue truck waited. Mrs. Braddock helped her put her bags in the back. The housekeeper was about to climb into the driver’s seat when Eric appeared.

“Thank you, Mrs. B.,” he said. “I’ll take over from here.”

Mrs. Braddock gave him a considering glance, apparently not intimidated in the least by his stern demeanor. She tossed him the keys, gave a brisk farewell to Jamie and disappeared inside. Jamie glanced upward, wondering if, for just a second, she’d seen Kaitlin’s heart-shaped face hovering at one of the windows. Jamie waved, but now the window was blank. Why did she feel this sudden ache inside? It made no sense at all—she scarcely knew the child.

A few moments later Eric was driving Jamie down the hill, the dazzling waters of the Sound sparkling before them. At first she made no effort at conversation. She told herself simply to gaze straight ahead. Another few moments and she would probably never see Eric Sinclair again. There was no reason to feel this unsettling awareness. Last night she’d been able to blame it on wine and exhaustion. This morning she could only blame it on the fact that she had been ditched at the altar. Did she want to get back at Shawn for what he’d done to her? Being attracted to Shawn’s brother, there would be a revenge….

She shook her head. If only it were that simple. She sensed something far more in her confused emotions, something unexplainable. The sooner she got away from Eric Sinclair, the better.

Reluctantly, she found herself studying his profile. The man was unquestionably attractive. The strong, definitive lines of his face suggested the force of personality she was already coming to know. His thick dark hair curled just a bit over his collar, conveying a certain rebellion. He was not someone who would fit neatly into any category. Yesterday’s sophisticated business suit had implied that he was an executive. Today, however, he wore shorts and a polo shirt and he was driving a vehicle well suited to the lush, wild greenery of the island.

Jamie realized that she was staring and forced her gaze forward. “I’d expect a sports car from you,” she said. “Something that could get you anywhere fast.”

“What makes you think I like to drive fast?” He sounded faintly amused.

“Just a hunch. I have a feeling you don’t like anything—or anyone—to get in the way.”

“Maybe I should just drive a bulldozer.”

Jamie almost smiled at that. She couldn’t help herself—she looked at him again and saw a hint of humor playing about his mouth.

“I have plans for this truck,” he said. “I’m thinking about getting a camper. Kaitlin’s mentioned that she’d like to go camping.”

“Let me guess. She mentioned that she liked cats, and you got her a kitten.”

“Lord, am I that pathetic?” he asked. “I throw presents at my daughter and hope it’ll make her love me.”

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds. Then Eric gave a slight, impatient shrug.

“The divorce was hard on her.”

“It’s hard for any child.”

“That’s right, you speak from experience.”

She’d definitely revealed too much last night, but now more slipped out. “I was nine years old when my parents broke up. It was very messy, nothing civil about it. My mother has yet to move on. So, yes, I understand what it’s like.”

Lost in her thoughts, it took Jamie a minute to realize that they’d turned right instead of left toward the pier.

“I’ll be late,” she said.

“Don’t worry—I’ll get you to the ferry in plenty of time.” Eric drove down one street and then another, ending up in front of a building of mellowed brick that had the words Ulysses Elementary lettered in stone above the wide front doors. Since it was summer, no children were about. Eric cut the engine.

“What are we doing here?” Jamie asked.

“Not sure myself. Just followed an impulse.”

“I doubt,” she said, “that you follow impulses very often.”

He leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel. “I seem that dull to you?”

Definitely not dull. Enigmatic, disturbing, irritating…but not dull in the least.

“I only meant that you’re a focused sort of person. I’m sure you have other things to do today.”

He gazed broodingly toward the school. “There’s always something else to do,” he murmured almost to himself. “That’s the way it is now. That’s the way it was when Shawn and I were kids. One or the other of us always messing up somehow. Not measuring up.”

Jamie didn’t speak. Eric seemed lost in his own memories, and she did not want to intrude. Then he stirred and addressed her once more.

“This is the school Shawn and I both went to. Did he tell you about Mrs. Green’s reign of terror in the third grade?”

Jamie sighed. “He didn’t tell me about you, so he certainly didn’t tell me about his school days.” It was humiliating, really. When you were going to marry someone, you were supposed to know all those little stories about him—his third-grade teacher, the friends he’d had, the friends he’d lost. Why hadn’t she noticed that Shawn had been less than forthcoming about his past and family? Had she been so blinded by her own emotions? Why hadn’t she persisted whenever Shawn had so adroitly changed the subject? And why, most of all, hadn’t he wanted to share with her?

“I’m lucky I even know he grew up here,” Jamie said. “It’s as if he never wanted me to know the ordinary facts and details of his life. As if somehow that would give me too much control over him.”

“I’ll fill in the blanks, then. Mrs. Green scared us all to death. Yet, when I broke my arm falling off the wall out back, she’s the one who drove me to the hospital. Nobody could reach my parents, so she just took charge. Kept telling me stories about her own son so I’d forget how much it hurt. That’s when I first discovered that people aren’t always what they seem.”

A breeze drifted through the open windows of the truck. Jamie settled back in her seat, gazing toward Eric’s school but seeing her own childhood.

“Third grade,” she said. “Third grade is when I beat up Charlie Henderson. I found him pouring water down an anthill and I soon put a stop to that. Got sent to the principal’s office afterward.”

“Defender of the weak and innocent,” Eric observed with a smile.

“Not according to my mom. She said you didn’t pummel boys no matter what the reason. Maybe you weren’t supposed to trust them, but you weren’t supposed to beat up on them, either. You were just supposed to make darn sure one of them never broke your heart.”

“Did you listen?”

“Apparently not or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Did my brother break your heart, Jamie?” Eric asked quietly.

She clenched her hands in her lap. “Yes—I don’t know. Right now I just think I hate him.”

“Hating someone usually means you still care…a lot.”

How could she describe what she felt inside? A turmoil that had a great deal to do with Shawn Sinclair—but also something to do with his brother. The stress of the last day or two had simply been too much. If only she could just go home or at least spend some time by herself to think things over, to recover….

She couldn’t. Deep inside she knew there would be no recovery for her without the truth. And only Shawn could provide that.

“I really don’t want to miss the ferry, Eric.”

“We still have plenty of time. Tell me, Jamie. Do you still see your father?”

She believed she knew what he was really asking. Will my daughter survive this divorce? Will she still talk to me when she’s grown?

Jamie could have told him she was the last person to offer reassurances. But his intensity, his sincere questioning, got to her. He cared very much about that little girl.

Jamie searched for the right words. “My dad and I…we have a cordial relationship, I suppose. Not exactly close but not distant, either. Somewhere in between. He lives in Colorado. I visit him and my stepmother and my step-sisters when I get a chance. As for my mother and me…that’s the more complex relationship. I see her every other day. We speak on the phone. And yet I’ve never told her that I love her. Mom doesn’t encourage talk about such things. But, still…if you meet a man and tell him after four weeks that you love him, you damn well should be able to express your emotions to your own blasted family.”

Jamie clenched her hands tighter, reminding herself that she usually had better rein on her tongue. She could only blame Shawn again. But perhaps she could also blame his brother. She’d just told him confidences she’d never shared with anyone else.

Not even with Shawn.

Eric drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He didn’t say a word, just stared at that old school of his.

“I want to make the ferry,” Jamie said. “I need to make it.”

Eric didn’t speak for another long moment. Then he shrugged, as if he’d lost some argument with himself. “For what it’s worth, Jamie, last night I called Shawn on his cell phone. At his number in Seattle, too. No answer.”

“It was kind of you to try,” she said stiffly. “But this is something I need to do myself.” In the aftermath of her almost wedding, she’d already spent too much time trying to reach Shawn on his cell. Besides, what they had to discuss couldn’t really be said over the phone.

Eric gave her a thoughtful look that was impossible to decipher. He reached into his pocket and took out a slip of paper. “Shawn’s number in Seattle. His home address is there, too.”

She smoothed out the paper and stared at it. “He never even gave me this much information. Why did he hide so much?” She’d been asking that question hopelessly. She’d never know the whys until she saw the man who’d sworn he loved her.

“What’s the other address?” she asked.

“Shawn’s workplace. Well, nominal workplace. He and I share management of the family firm, but he’s not always a fan of clocking in.”

More information she hadn’t known. Jamie crumpled the paper, then smoothed it out again.

“Shawn told me he dabbled in real estate. I don’t suppose that much is true.”

“Actually, yes,” Eric said.

So her intended had been truthful, up to a point. He’d told her that he was from the Northwest, that he’d grown up on the island of Saint-Anne, that he’d relocated to New Mexico because he’d always been fascinated by the Spanish architecture there.

Wasn’t that the best way to lie? Be honest as far as you could. Just neglect to include certain crucial details.

“Jamie,” Eric said. “For what it’s worth…good luck.” He gazed at her as if about to say something more. She glanced away, hoping he wouldn’t say anything at all. For just a brief second she’d seen pity in his expression.

“Please,” she said, her voice raw. “Let’s just go.”

Eric started the engine, put the truck into gear and drove her to the ferry.

Chapter Four

When Jamie reached Seattle, she had to attend to a few details. Namely she had to see about a rental car. She could not, after all, go chasing her fugitive fiancé by taxi or bus.

As she completed the necessary paperwork, the question that had plagued her ever since her arrival in Washington state surfaced yet again.

What am I doing here?

Was it sheer stubbornness? Was it as simple as refusing to accept what had happened to her at the altar? Rather too forcefully, Jamie signed her name on the rental-car agreement. As she walked across the lot and inspected the small cream sedan assigned to her, she realized her presence here wasn’t as simple as the last-minute loss of a fiancé. That hurt had merely scratched the surface of a much deeper wound she held inside her.

She asked herself again, What am I really doing here?

A childhood memory came to her now, unbidden. That day, not long after her father had left, the snow falling thick and fast outside, unusually intense for a New Mexico winter. And Jamie, face pressed to the window, the glass cold against her cheek, straining to see through the flurry. Straining to see her dad coming up the walk, returning to her. Her mother, sitting rigidly in one of the living room chairs, pretending to read, but then, at last, setting the book down with a gesture of exasperation. “He’s not coming, Jamie. He’s never coming back. Accept it.”

Jamie climbed into the vehicle and stared, unseeing, out the windshield for a moment. She would not—could not—believe that Shawn’s feelings for her had been mere illusion. She would not—could not—make the same mistakes as her mother. Caroline Williams had never truly fought for her own happiness. Instead she had held on to her pride for almost twenty long years. But pride didn’t protect you from a broken heart. It only prolonged the heartache.

Jamie turned the key in the ignition. All this time, her mother had been unable to confront the more painful dilemmas of her marriage and divorce. She’d retreated instead, as if to keep her dignity intact. But Jamie refused to retreat.

Pressing her foot down on the gas, she drove a little too quickly out of the lot. The rental-car company had provided her with a map and, despite the heavy traffic of the city, it didn’t take her long to find Shawn’s neighborhood—a tumble of exclusive homes clinging gracefully to a hillside. Shawn’s house was a striking angular design, all shining glass and concrete beams. Jamie climbed out of the car, her heart thumping. She might be confronting Shawn in only a second or two.

No such luck. She stood on the porch and rang the doorbell three times. Jamie waited for what seemed an eternity, then rang again. She waited some more. The sleek rows of windows surrounding her seemed to reflect back only emptiness.

Jamie went down the steps and turned so that she’d have a better look at the place. It was brash and elegant all at once. On the one hand, she could see the attraction. This house made a definitive, commanding statement, even while lending itself to the foliage all around. On the other hand…

It was not at all the type of home that she and Shawn had so often discussed. They’d talked about the quaint fixer-upper they’d find one day. They’d imagined spending long weekends together remodeling it or searching for antiques to furnish it. Eventually, of course, the house would be filled with the laughter and happy chaos of children—at least two. A dog to complete the picture…

This house did not seem like the type of place that would welcome children. Jamie couldn’t imagine smudge prints on all those spotless windows or a bicycle sprawled on the immaculately clipped lawn. Professional gardening service, no doubt. Jamie couldn’t envision Shawn pushing a mower here. Yet he’d talked about how much he enjoyed physical work, all the details of rehabilitating a home: weeding and landscaping, not to mention tearing down walls, putting up new ones, sanding and tiling and painting.

This house was too perfect. It would reject any such friendly tampering.

Jamie was more confused than ever. Shawn had always seemed so content, so pleased to be sharing those homey, everyday dreams with her. He couldn’t have been pretending…could he?

Jamie turned and went back to her car. She felt as if she were that child all over again, imprisoned in the house by snow. Trapped by her own inability to open the door and seek what she had lost…

If Shawn had genuinely shared her dreams, why had he left her? Why hadn’t he shared all of his life with her? And why, dammit, had she been so blinded by love? Had she missed warning signs she might have seen otherwise?

Jamie was shaking inside. She sat in the car for a long time, gazing out the windshield. The flurry of unanswered questions tormented her. Perhaps the most insistent of all: What am I really doing here?

Finally, she placed her hands, which had steadied, on the wheel and pressed her foot on the gas once more.

IT OCCURRED TO ERIC that his Seattle office, of late, suffered from a split personality. A crisis of identity. It had all the necessary business accoutrements—executive desk, state-of-the-art computer, digital scanner—but one large corner had recently been converted into a play area, complete with puzzles, building blocks and stuffed animals. Taking pride of place were a long-lashed giraffe and a woolly mammoth.

Could you really run a company and at the same time compensate for having been a less-than-stellar father? Eric was trying to find out just that. He’d arranged his schedule so that he could work from home whenever possible, as well as bring Kaitlin into the office with him. He was trying to juggle everything in his life without dropping a ball. His gaze strayed toward the framed photographs displayed on his desk. Kaitlin’s school portrait from last year, as well as a picture of her when she was only a few months old.

The first time Eric had held his daughter, everything had seemed possible to him. Her tiny fingers had curled around his. Odd, in a way, that such a small bundle of pink had made him feel invincible. But his child had needed him, depended on him, so of course he would be strong. Of course he would conquer the world. But even then she’d looked up at him solemnly, as if already searching the depths and complexities of their future together.

Had he begun to fail her even then? Had he spent too much time pursuing his work responsibilities and not enough time simply being her dad? Had he too often gone through the motions of being a father?

A sound at the doorway drew him from his brooding thoughts. He saw Jamie Williams framed there as if in a painting. The clear hazel of her eyes, the nuances of red and gold in her hair, the warm tone of her skin, as if a touch of sunlight had been captured there, created a palette of colors.

It hadn’t been all that long since he’d seen her—he’d driven her to the ferry only this morning—but he found himself analyzing certain facets of her as if for the first time. The determined tilt of her chin, the sexy curves hinted at by that dress…

Eric rubbed his neck where that inconvenient crick seemed to have lodged of late. He reminded himself that Jamie Williams was his brother’s problem.

Jamie’s expressive face conveyed evident frustration. “I thought—I’d hoped, anyway…” Her voice trailed off. He knew exactly what she’d hoped: to find Shawn here.

Jamie seemed to be reordering her thoughts. She stepped into the office. “I didn’t imagine you’d be here,” she said. “You’d mentioned staying on the island today.”

“Change of plans,” he told her. “Happens more often than I’d like. Minor business emergencies. I suppose you’ve already been to Shawn’s house.”

“Yes.”

“And he wasn’t there.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Afraid there’s no sign of him here, although our receptionist tells me Shawn called to check his messages early this morning—without leaving a word about where he was…or when he would return.”

Jamie appeared to tense at this information, but afterward the two of them seemed to run out of conversation. She stood halfway between the door and his desk, a slight frown on her face. Too bad Eric couldn’t tell her what she needed to know, but he didn’t have any insights to offer.

“Well,” Jamie said at last. “It seems I’m at a dead end.”

Eric went to pull out the chair on the other side of his desk. “Have a seat,” he said. “And maybe…” Hell, what did he mean to say? That he’d brainstorm with her, try to think where Shawn could be? Bad idea. The best thing for her to do was go back to New Mexico and forget all about his brother.

She hesitated for a moment, but then she did sit down. Eric leaned against a corner of his desk. Jamie made a gesture that seemed to convey the futility of her situation.

“I just don’t believe this,” she muttered. “What do I do next—where do I go from here? Before Shawn, I always knew where I was headed. I could see tomorrow and the next day and the next. But now…”

There’d once been a time when Eric had been able to see his own way clearly. These days, however, clarity of vision was not so easy to come by.

“He has to show up sooner or later,” Eric said. “He is half of this company, after all.”

“You don’t sound too optimistic about that.”

“Shawn always has kept his own schedule,” Eric had to admit. “Although he has a job title and a job description, he tends to neglect the day-to-day.”

Jamie drew her eyebrows together. “Nonetheless, clearly he has responsibilities here. Why didn’t he tell me any of this? What was he even doing in New Mexico?”

“Perhaps it was something of an escape.”

Jamie gave him a hard look. “Escape. Why would he need that?”

He’d been mulling over certain possibilities, certain explanations for Shawn’s behavior, but now he pulled back. It was useless, damaging speculation.

When he didn’t answer, Jamie gave a weary shrug. “Very well, I understand. There are things you simply don’t want to talk about where Shawn’s concerned. But why didn’t he ever tell me about his family, about his work…about his life?”

Why, indeed.

Eric regarded Jamie, and she seemed to grow annoyed with his scrutiny. She sat up a bit straighter.

“I can guess what you’re thinking. You’re trying to figure out what I’m doing here at all. Why didn’t I just stay at home and nurse my wounds in private, like a normal jilted fiancée?”

It occurred to Eric that he felt a reluctant admiration for Jamie Williams, precisely because she hadn’t stayed at home to hide out. Clearly she was a fighter. She had courage. But that didn’t change the fact that she was his brother’s concern, not his.

“Jamie,” Eric said, “Shawn could be anywhere right now.”

“So I should just give up and go back to Albuquerque?” She gave Eric another sharp glance. “You’re almost starting to look relieved. You’d like to think of me boarding a plane tomorrow, heading back to New Mexico. Another of Shawn’s messes resolved—or at least out of your way.”

Jamie Williams was a little too astute. He’d definitely been thinking along those lines. They looked at each other, and tension seemed to thrum between them. She was a beautiful, desirable woman who’d been mistreated by his brother. And, yes, he’d be relieved when she returned to her own life.

Just then, his daughter appeared in the doorway, her arms wrapped around a stack of file folders. When Kaitlin saw Jamie, she took a step back as if suddenly unsure. Yesterday she’d obtained a certain ease with Jamie, but that seemed to have vanished. Did she have difficulty trusting anyone these days?