Caldwell.” He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. “Is Miranda here? I’d like to talk with her.” Has she told our son about me?
Miranda’s youngest brother shoved himself away from the porch railing. “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
The kid’s name floated up from the past. Theo. Theo had the height of all the Caldwell men, even at seventeen or so. Dislike emanated from him.
“That’s enough, Theo.” Clayton’s soft Southern voice carried authority. He eyed Tyler for a moment. “Miranda’s down at the dock.”
Tyler jerked a nod, then spun away from their combined stares. He walked toward the dock that jutted into the channel between Caldwell Island and the mainland, aware of the men’s gazes boring into his back.
Miranda stood with her hands braced against the railing, her jeans and white shirt blending into a background of water and sky. She must have heard his footsteps crossing the shell pathway, then thudding onto the weathered wooden boards. She didn’t turn.
Caldwell boats curtseyed gently on the tide on either side of the dock as he approached Miranda. Her slim form was rigid.
Slim, yes, but there was a soft roundness to her figure. The bronze hair that had once rippled halfway down her back brushed her shoulders.
It’s been eight years, he reminded himself irritably. Neither of us are kids any longer. If they hadn’t been kids, fancying themselves Romeo and Juliet when their families tried to part them, maybe that hasty marriage would never have happened.
Then there’d be no Sammy. The thought hit him starkly. That would be a harsh trade for an untroubled conscience.
Miranda turned toward him, her reluctance palpable. He looked at her without the anger that had colored his image of her earlier.
Her shy eagerness had been replaced by maturity. She probably had a serene face for anyone but him.
That serenity had been the first thing that attracted him to her. She’d worn her serenity like a shield even while she waited tables at the yacht club, taking flak from spoiled little rich kids. Like he had been.
Just now her body was tight with apprehension, her face wary. She stood outlined against the darkening sky, and the breeze from the water ruffled her hair.
One of them had to break the awkward silence. “Should I have called before I came over?”
She shook her head, the movement sending strands of coppery hair across her cheek. “It’s all right. I thought you’d probably come back tonight.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “We have things to settle, I guess.”
“Yes.” He bit back the horde of questions he wanted to throw at her. Why didn’t you tell me? She still hadn’t answered that one to his satisfaction. “I take it you’ve told your family.”
“I didn’t have a choice. You can’t come back to a small place like Caldwell Cove after all these years and not cause comment. You must remember what the grapevine is like.”
“We were summer people. The island never included us.”
Her face shadowed, and he almost regretted his words. Summer people. The wealthy visitors who owned or rented the big houses down by the yacht club had always maintained a clear division between themselves and the islanders.
“I guess not,” she said carefully.
“Did you tell Sammy?”
She rubbed her arms, as if seeking warmth. “I told him.”
“How did he take it?” He didn’t know if he wanted his son to be glad or sorry he was here.
“He was upset. Confused.” She shook her head, and he saw the stark pain in her eyes. “I tried to explain.”
“I hope you did a better job of explaining it to him than you did to me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Funny, but I don’t feel too much like being fair, Miranda.” The anger he’d thought he had under control spurted out. “It isn’t every day I find out a girl from my past had a baby she never bothered telling me about.”
“I tried to tell you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Tried how? I wasn’t that hard to find. A letter or phone call would have done it.”
Some emotion he couldn’t identify flickered across her face. Once he’d known the meaning of her every look, every gesture. At least he’d told himself he did. Maybe that had been an illusion.
“I came to Baltimore,” she said slowly, not looking at him. “Not long after I’d gotten the papers.”
He didn’t need to ask what papers. His mother had wielded the Winchester clout as easily as his father. She’d pushed the divorce through in record time.
“You didn’t oppose the divorce.” That wasn’t what he’d intended to say, but it just came out.
“No, I…” She stopped, seeming to censor whatever she’d been about to say. “That doesn’t matter now.”
He leaned against the weathered railing next to her, studying her down-tilted face and wishing he could see her eyes. “If you came to Baltimore, I didn’t see you.”
“I changed my mind,” she said carefully. “I did what I thought was best for all of us. Maybe I was wrong, but it’s too late now.”
He stared at her, frowning. He wanted to push for answers, but maybe she had a point.
“All right, forget what we did or didn’t do then.” He didn’t think he could, but he’d try. “Let’s talk about now. Is Sammy angry about his father showing up after all this time?”
“Not angry, no.” Her grip on the railing seemed to ease. “Confused, as I said, but he’s a much-loved, secure child. He can deal with this.”
None of that love and security in Sammy’s life came from his father. Well, fair enough. Tyler hadn’t had that from his father, either.
Again he had the urge to walk away. All he could offer this child was money. He’d lost the capacity to form close relationships a long time ago, if he’d ever had it.
He couldn’t leave until he’d talked with Sammy. He owed both of them that much, at least.
“When can I meet him?” He threw the question at Miranda.
Her soft mouth tightened. “I suggested tomorrow, and he said he’d think about it. I’d like to let him agree without pressuring him.”
Was she trying to get out of it? “I have a business to run, Miranda. Tomorrow after school. I’ll be here.”
Her head came up, and she glared at him, then jerked a nod. “I’ll talk to him about it.”
“Tomorrow after school. I’ll see you then.”
He
