The Guardian's Honor

“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.