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She glanced at Adam, to see that he looked taken aback as well.
“It’s been a long time, Grandpa.” She said the words softly. “Adam and his people didn’t have anything to do with the quarrel you had with your father.”
“They’re his kin,” he flared.
“And yours,” Adam said. “Miz Callie is the one who was determined to find out what happened to you. She remembers so much about that last summer on the island—about how you took her and Richmond fishing and shrimping, how patient you were with them.”
His face eased a little. “They were good kids, I’ll say that. Always listened.”
“You had some friends there, too. Boys you hung around with in the summer, Miz Callie says. There’s a picture of a bunch of you together.”
“Timmy Allen and Phil Yancey, I s’pose. And Benny Adams. I haven’t thought of them in years. All dead now, I reckon.”
“Not Mr. Adams. My sister talked to him just a few weeks ago, once we found out you were still alive. He said to tell you to come see him.”
“Benny always was tough, for all he was the shortest one of the bunch.” The hand Grandpa raised to his eyes trembled a little, and he wiped away tears.
Her heart twisted. He hadn’t wept since Grandma’s death. He was softening toward Adam. If only…
“Why don’t y’all come back to Charleston with me?” Adam said. “The family there would surely like to get to know you.”
Grandpa shook his head. “What’s the point in reliving the past? I don’t go where I’m not wanted.”
“Please,” she murmured, barely aware that it was a prayer. Then, more boldly, she said, “The rest of the family would like to meet you, Grandpa. They didn’t have anything to do with the quarrel.”
She leaned toward him, intent on making him agree to this. Didn’t he see? It was a chance for Jamie. Once they got to Charleston, anything could happen. There were specialists there, even a medical university. The family might feel obligated to help.
If not, well, she could talk to a lawyer, even, to see if Grandpa was entitled to some part of his father’s estate.
“Miz Callie’s going to be disappointed in me if I come back without you,” Adam said. “She has her heart set on seeing you again. She’s always believed in you.”
Grandpa weakened a little; she could see it in his eyes, even though he was still shaking his head.
“Are we goin’ someplace, Grandpa?” Jamie, drawn by their voices, poked his head in from the kitchen. “I want to go someplace.”
“We might go to Charleston, sugar,” she said. That was playing dirty, involving Jamie, but at this point she’d do whatever it took. “You could see the beach. Wouldn’t that be great?”
“I want to go.” He hurried across the room as fast as his braces would allow, fetching up against his grandfather’s knees. “Please, let’s go. I want to see the beach.”
Grandpa stroked Jamie’s silky hair, his hand not quite steady. “Well, I guess maybe there’s no harm in going to see the place.” He looked at Adam then, “I’m not saying I’ll go back to being part of the family, mind, so don’t you go getting any ideas. But I guess we can go for a visit, seein’ it means so much to the boy.”
Cathy exhaled slowly, afraid even to move for fear he’d change his mind. But he wouldn’t do that, not once he’d told Jamie.
Her gaze met Adam’s, and she smiled. They’d done it.
Chapter Three
Adam shot upright in bed, his heart thudding, wet with perspiration. Disoriented for a moment, until he remembered that he was spending the night at the Hawkins place so they could make an early start in the morning.
Checking his watch, he let the routine movement calm him. Two in the morning. Definitely too early to get up, but his heart still pounded and his nerves jumped, demanding that he move.
It had been the dream. Fragments of it this time, not the whole, inevitable sequence of events he sometimes replayed for himself. In this one, he’d seen the smugglers’ boat, black and shining in the sunlight that dazzled his eyes. He’d seen his hands, the right hand clutching his weapon at the ready, heard himself give the command to fire the warning shot.
Then the boat swamping, people tumbling into the water, reaching for the boy, seeing the look of silent suffering, the mother’s anguish as she held him. The blood.
He must have jerked himself awake at that point, overwhelmed with guilt. The guilt was always there, but kept constantly under control. Only his dreams loosed it, like a beast ready to devour him.
Running both hands through his damp hair, he clutched the back of his neck. Hot in here—maybe that was what had triggered the dream. It had been hot that day, too, but cooler once the patrol boat was out on the ocean.
A breath of jasmine-scented air touched her face. No use trying to go back to bed right away. He’d go to the kitchen, get a drink, maybe walk around a little until his nerves settled.
He padded silently down the stairs, reminding himself that the house’s three occupants slept behind the doors on the first floor. And thinking of them made him realize exactly why he’d dreamed tonight. It wasn’t the heat or the strange bed.
It was Cathy and Jamie. That first glimpse of the boy had done it. He’d seen Cathy bending over her son protectively, seen the look of patient suffering in the boy’s eyes, and he’d been right back there on the water off the Florida Keys.
Reaching the kitchen, he drew a glass of water from the tap. Tepid, but he drained it anyway in a long, thirsty gulp. He set the glass on the counter. Its click was followed by another sound—a creaking board. He turned.
Cathy stood in the doorway. Barefoot like him, she wore a striped robe that fell to her knees. Her hair was pulled back in a braid. Even in the dim light, he could see the question in her eyes.
She crossed to him quietly. “Is something wrong?”
“Just couldn’t sleep.” He wasn’t going to tell her why—not now, not ever, even though it might help to explain his initial reaction to Jamie.
“I don’t wonder, with this heat. I’m sure you’re used to air-conditioning.” She moved to the refrigerator and got out a pitcher of water, picked up his glass and poured. “Have this. At least it’s cold.”
“Thanks.” He took the glass she offered. It was frosty against his palm. “You’re not sleeping, either.”
She made an indeterminate little gesture with her hand. “Fretting about whether I’ve forgotten something, I guess. Or whether anything will go wrong.”
“I’m not surprised. The arrangements for this trip have been as complicated as planning a NATO summit.”
That brought a smile to her face. “You’re right about that. I thought a dozen times in the past couple of days that Grandpa would cancel the whole visit.”
“Luckily we had our secret weapon.”
At her look of incomprehension, he grinned. “Jamie. That boy could charm the birds from the trees. He reminds me of my brother, Cole. Cole can talk anybody into most anything.”
She tilted her head to one side, looking at him. “Is Cole like you?”
“In looks, you mean? He’s not as big as I am—more wiry, I guess you’d say. Not in temperament, either. I’m like my daddy, slow and solid. Maybe a little bit boring. Cole, he’s like quicksilver, gets mad fast, gets over it fast. I guess that’s why he’s flying a jet instead of running a patrol boat like me.”
“I don’t think you’re boring,” she said. “And it’s surely a good thing you’re patient, or planning this trip with my grandfather would have driven you crazy.”
“It’s okay. He has to have mixed feelings about going back after all this time.” He paused, wondering if she had any more insight than he did. She and her grandfather didn’t seem all that close. “Do you have any idea why he’s refusing to go to the beach house? My grandmother just assumed he’d want to stay there. I think she’s a little hurt that y’all are going to my mama and daddy’s in Mount Pleasant instead.”
She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it back into the loose single braid, maybe buying time. “He hasn’t talked to me about it, but I’m guessing he won’t go there because that’s where he had the big breach with his father. Too many bad memories, maybe.”
He considered that. “Bound to be some good ones, too, but…” He let that trail off, inviting her to finish the thought.
“He hasn’t forgiven his father.” She shook her head, the braid swinging. “The poor man’s been dead for half a century, I s’pose, but Grandpa can’t forgive him. He’s not good at forgiving.”
Something in her tone alerted him. “It sounds as if you have some personal experience with that.”
She didn’t speak for a moment—long enough for him to wish he hadn’t pried. This trip was going to be difficult enough without having her mad at him the whole time.
She let out her breath in a little sigh. “I know better than anyone.” She spread her hands slightly. “You’ve seen how he is with me. You probably wouldn’t believe that we were as close as could be once.”
“What happened?” he asked softly, just to keep her talking.
She stared blankly toward the window where a small patch of moonlight showed, but he didn’t think she was seeing that.
“I let him down,” she said finally. “He had his heart set on my going to college. He and Grandma saved every penny they could to make that happen. And then I had to lose my head over a guy. Quit college, get married. Break my grandma’s heart, to hear Grandpa tell it.”
If it had been daylight, she probably never would have said a word of that. The dark, silent kitchen seemed to encourage confidences.
“What you did was only what thousands of other kids probably do every year. It’s not so bad.”
“It was to Grandpa. He said if I persisted in doing something so foolish, he’d wash his hands of me.”
“But you’re here now.” What had happened to the man? Where did Jamie fit into the story?
“After Jamie was born, my husband left. I worked, but Jamie needed so much care—well, eventually we needed a place to live. Grandpa needed someone to look out for him.” She shrugged. “It worked out all right eventually. But I wouldn’t count on him forgiving anytime soon.”
Her voice had hardened, and she’d warned him off the private, obviously painful past. No matter. She was coming to Charleston, and he’d have time to hear the rest of the story.
“I’m pinning all my hopes on Miz Callie,” he said lightly. “This is her heart’s desire, and I imagine she can be just as stubborn as your grandfather.”
Cathy seemed to shake off the remnants of the past. “Let’s hope so, for all our sakes.”
Leaning against the counter, he studied her face, pale and perfect as a black-and-white drawing in the dim light. “There’s something I’ve been wondering about. I know why I’m going to all this trouble to bring Ned back to his family. Why are you?”
She looked startled and defensive, taking a step back. “I…I want what’s best for my grandfather, that’s all.”
Was it? He wasn’t so sure. He had a sense that there was more to Cathy’s desire to get her family to Charleston than he’d heard.
He’d be patient. He didn’t have to know all the answers tonight.
But he would know them, eventually.
“We’re going over the Ravenel Bridge now.” Adam’s voice was cheerful, as it had been for this endless trip.
Jamie, who’d slept in the car, was nearly as energetic as Adam. Her grandfather had slept off and on. Or maybe he’d just been closing his eyes against the once-familiar sights.
As for her—well, she was just plain exhausted. All the emotional stress and the hard work of the past few days seemed to have landed on her once she was sitting still. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open.
Jamie leaned forward eagerly in his booster seat, hanging on Adam’s every word. “Is that the ocean down there under the bridge?”
“That’s the Cooper River.” Adam didn’t let a trace of amusement into his voice. “Look at all the boats.”
Jamie pressed his face against the window, peering down. “Wow. I wish I could go on a boat.”
“Don’t talk foolish. You don’t need to go on any boats.” Grandpa’s voice was sharp, startling her.
Jamie’s eyes filled with tears at the unexpected rebuke. She patted him, biting her tongue to keep from snapping back at her grandfather. They were all tired. Now was not the time to talk about it.
“We’ll see,” she said quietly. “Look, we’re coming down off the bridge.”
“This is Mount Pleasant,” Adam said. “It’s where I grew up. You’re going to sleep in the house where I lived when I was your age.”
“I am?” Jamie clearly found that idea exciting. “Are your toys there?”
“Jamie,” she said, a warning note in her voice.
“That’s okay.” Adam’s gaze met hers in the rearview mirror. “Tell you what, Jamie. If my mama didn’t think to get some of my old toys out of the attic, you and I will go up there tomorrow and find some for you.”
Uneasiness edged along her skin. She didn’t want Adam doing anything for her son out of pity. Maybe that was irrational, but that was how she felt about it. And she certainly didn’t want Jamie to start relying on him. Who knew how long Adam would be a part of their lives?
She should talk to Adam about it. Just explain her feelings calmly and rationally. He’d understand.
But no more private talks alone in dark kitchens. Her cheeks flamed at the memory. What had possessed her to tell him anything about her past?
At least she’d had the sense to keep it brief. She’d make sure he wouldn’t be hearing any more. And maybe she’d best be on guard that she didn’t start relying on him, either.
She was here for just one reason—to grasp any opportunity that would help Jamie. Nothing else mattered. She summoned up the image of Jamie walking. Think about that, nothing else.
Adam turned onto a narrow residential street that seemed to jog right and left without rhyme or reason. The antebellum-style houses were so close together that the neighborhood felt claustrophobic to her. It was a far cry from their isolated farmhouse.
Adam pulled up in front of a graceful brick home, its small front garden filled with flowers.
“Home,” Adam announced. “Let’s go meet the family.”
With a wordless prayer, Cathy reached out to unbuckle Jamie’s seat belt. This was what she’d wanted. Now she had to face it.
Adam was there suddenly, lifting Jamie out of the car. “There you go, buddy. Let’s go see if my mama got out any toys for you.”
Cathy took her grandfather’s arm. To her surprise, he didn’t pull away. Together, they walked up the brick path to the house and the people who stood outside, waiting for them.
The next few minutes passed in a flurry of introductions. Adam’s father, Ashton, was an older version of Adam, with chestnut hair touched with white at the temples and calm, judicious eyes that seemed to take her measure. His mother was casually elegant, so perfectly coiffed and clad that Cathy felt instantly disheveled and dowdy next to her.
Then a pair of warm arms encircled her as the third member of the welcoming party grabbed her in an unexpected hug.
“I’m Georgia, Adam’s sister. Welcome, Cathy. We’re so glad you’re here.”
Nobody could doubt the sincerity of Georgia’s greeting, and the cold ball of uncertainty in Cathy began to thaw. “Thank you.” She drew Jamie close to her. “This is my son, Jamie.”
Georgia knelt, dark curls swinging around her face. “Hey, there, Cousin Jamie. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Jamie seemed struck dumb by the attention. Then he looked up at Cathy. “Is she really my cousin?” he whispered.
