The Winding Road Home (32 page)

“Kate.” He pointed the remote at the television and stopped the video he'd just started. “I have a confession to make.”

She met his eyes and was reminded why she had avoided them. First there was the shiver up and down her spine. Then there was the inability to look away, so strong was the desire to search in wonder for what could lie in those gorgeous dark depths.

“Kate.”

“Huh?”

“You're zoning out on me again.”

“Sorry.”

He laughed. “It's okay. I love watching your face. Did you know it actually lights up?”

“It does not.” She leaned against his arm so she wouldn't have to look at his eyes.

“Does. Anyway, about my confession. I was telling God that wherever was best for you to live, that was all right by me. But…now I'm praying you won't leave Valley Oaks. I just thought you should know.”

“Okay.”

“That's all you've got to say?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think God does when two people pray for the opposite thing?”

“Well, He says yes to one and no to the other.”

“I suppose so. Do your prayers count more than mine?”

She smiled up at him. “No, silly.”

He touched her nose. “When are you going to tell me about your DC trip?”

She moved as he pulled his arm up and placed it around her shoulders. Snuggling against him, she felt an unparalleled contentment. The real world could wait. “Not tonight. Okay?”

“Okay. And you're not upset about my prayer?”

“Tanner, at the moment you could tell me my writing is the stinkiest drivel you've ever read and I wouldn't be upset.”

His laughter rang out, filling her with a greater joy than she had ever known.

Adele went home Sunday evening, numb with exhaustion and yet overflowing with affection. A new affection for her father. Of all people.

Chelsea greeted her at the kitchen door, excited about her weekend away, grateful to her mother, eager to share her fascination about college life, her hopes to apply to that school next year. Adele listened, asked questions, and saved her news.

Later upstairs, she went into her daughter's room, sat down on the bed, and patted the covers. “We need to talk, honey.”

Eyeing her strangely, Chelsea sat down and drew her legs up Indian style.

That wouldn't work. The tears were starting again. Adele reached over and pulled her daughter close.

“Chels, you know Rand Jennings?”

“Graham's friend? Oh, Mom, did he die?”

“No.” She sniffed. “He's…he's your grandfather.”

“What!” She sat back, her eyes wide.

“He's R.J. Chandler.”

“You're kidding! No, you're not.”

Adele shook her head and told her the story.

When it was finished, Chelsea said, “Wow! Is that why he called me Addie?”

“You resemble me at your age. You must have shocked him. But he wants to see you now.”

“Oh my gosh. My grandfather! What do I call him?”

“I imagine he'll have an idea. Instead of working all day tomorrow, I'd like you to spend some time with him, okay? I want you to get to know him. He's so completely the opposite of the man I knew. Of what I've always told you he was like.”

“Wow.”

“Exactly. Wow. What a day. I thought I knew what forgiveness meant. I didn't have a clue.” Perhaps in the norm she could have eased into a relationship. They didn't have time for easing in now.

“And Graham's his friend?”

“I guess…I guess everything he told us is true. His dad worked for my dad. R.J. paid his way through college.”

“But you didn't know anything about him when you were growing up? That your dad was paying for someone else to go to school? How old were you?”

“I guess I would have been about twelve or thirteen when he first went to college. And no, I didn't know anything about my dad's acquaintances or what he did with his money. As I've told you, I spent most of my life away at boarding school.”

“Wow,” she said again. “A new dad and a new grandfather all in one week. Nobody's going to believe it.”

Believing was one thing. Accepting it was quite another.

“Chelsea.” R.J. smiled.

Adele watched her daughter smile shyly, lean over, and gently hug the unknown man who sat in his wheelchair.

“You look just like your mother. She had long curls like that. Was too skinny.”

“I've seen pictures. But this ear here,” she touched it, “that's my dad's. What should I call you?”

“Grandpops.”

Chelsea giggled and sat in the chair next to his. “Okay. Grandpops. What was she like when she was little?”

Like he would know.
Adele said, “I'll let you two get acquainted. I have some work to do.”

They barely acknowledged her departure. A few minutes later, having bypassed her office, Adele sat outdoors on a garden bench facing a newly plowed field, her back to the building. Some of the early perennials were blooming, others were poking through the dirt, but most of the beds were empty.

Resentment bubbled.

Oh, Lord.

Chelsea and R.J. had a clean slate before them. No baggage between them. Nothing to get over. Nothing to forgive.

I hate feeling like this. Please take it away, Lord. Just take it away.

“Adele!”

She turned to see Naomi Sommers walking briskly toward her, elegant in her navy blue business suit, high heels clicking on the sidewalk. Naomi was the dearest of friends, the woman who had taken her in 17 years ago. Fifty-ish, she was every inch a professional with neatly coiffed short brown hair and a kind but direct manner. She worked with a temporary staffing agency.

Adele stood and accepted her hug. “What are you doing here?”

“You'd better sit down.” She settled beside Adele on the bench. “Graham Logan came by the office first thing this morning.”

“He told you.”

“Yes. What a shock. You know my heart goes out to you, sweetie. So I've come to interfere.”

Adele smiled. “You always know exactly what I need.”

“I just like to be bossy. I called Pastor Eaton. Is that all right?”

“Oh, Naomi, of course it is. I didn't know where to start.”

“Praying friends are the best place. And then the church. They'll send food. I'm sending you a temp. I have a perfect one in mind. She can follow you around and take over details you won't have the time or inclination to do. Personality wise, she may even fall in love with the old folks too.”

Adele protested. “Naomi, we can't—”

“I know. It's not in your budget. Don't worry about that. It's covered.”

“Graham.”

Naomi missed a beat, and Adele knew she had guessed correctly. Her friend placed an arm around her shoulders. “Speaking of Graham. Everything I said before? Forget it. You've found yourself quite a man.”

“I don't even know what he does for a living.”

“He was an FBI agent before his wife was killed. After that he did some private eye work until your dad hired him.”

Adele drew back and studied her friend's face. “How'd you learn all that?”

“Are you kidding? He was ready to burst if he didn't confess soon to someone, and since his first choice refuses to speak to him, he went to her good friend.”

“FBI?
That explains a few things. Like his mysterious contacts. Like how he managed to forge all the documents to get R.J. checked into this place. Naomi, I can't talk to him yet. I can't take in anymore emotion. I can't even take in anymore information!”

She hugged her. “Don't worry. He's not going anywhere.”

“Tanner! She's dead. Just totally dead!” Kate found it impossible to keep the whine out of her voice as she wailed into the cell phone.

“I'm sorry, hon.”

“Maybe I should get a second opinion?”

“Look, I know she was a good friend, but she was getting awfully old. I don't think another opinion will change things. Just remember all the good years you had together.”

“I have to go now. They want me to take my things out of her. And they want their car back.”

“I'll be right there.”

“You don't have to come. I can walk home. I just wanted to tell you.”

“I'll see you in two minutes. Bye.”

She turned off her cell phone and gazed across the parking lot of the car repair shop. Helen looked so forlorn sitting off to one side, her faded blue washed out in the late afternoon sun.

She was only a car.

No…she was Kate's past…and she was Kate's future. Named after the political journalist Helen Thomas, the old Volkswagen represented Kate's dream. As if on cue, the dream and the car had died together.

No, that was being melodramatic. Just because one visit to DC had been a bust didn't mean the dream was gone. It just meant it was more challenging.

A black SUV turned the corner.

Doubly challenging. Why would she move away from that guy?

She sighed and walked over to her car.

Tanner joined her as she dug through the trunk. “Hi.” He pulled her into his arms.

“Oh, fiddlesticks. Now I'm going to cry.”

“Go ahead.”

“She's just a car.” Kate buried her face in his chest.

Two hours later they sat at a small candlelit table in Antonio's, Tanner's solution to Kate's grieving.

She knew she was hooked, but she pointed a finger at him and said sternly, “You think you're pretty good at this Galahad business, don't you?”

He smiled and winked at her. “Don't you?”

Kate felt a distinct sense of warmth creeping up her neck. Good grief! Now he had her blushing!

“I must say, Katelyn, you are dealing rather well with the issue. I comforted you over Helen. I helped you pick out a car to lease, which I strongly suggested you do. And now I've brought you to Antonio's.”

“Hey, I drove myself here in my own car.”

“I got the reservation.”

“But I'm not a damsel in distress.”

“No, definitely not. You were simply temporarily without transportation and hungry. As your friend, I came along to keep you company.”

She burst out laughing. “It's still an issue with me, isn't it?”

“We've only been at it for a little over twenty-four hours now.”

“It's not fair though. You've spent years as a practicing Sir Galahad. That places me at a disadvantage.”

“How's that?”

The waitress interrupted as she set salads before them. Before leaving she smiled at Tanner. Typical.

Kate speared a forkful of lettuce. “Oh, Tanner. I don't know how to respond. I don't mind your help. I appreciate it, but I don't want to lose sight of my independence.”

He touched her wrist. “Let's pray.”

And then he said things like that. The frothy, shivery sensation hadn't yet subsided.

“Dear Jesus. Thanks for this food and Kate's car that wasn't too overpriced. Please help her to understand it's not a game with me. Amen.” He patted her wrist and let go. “Why would you lose sight of your independence?”

“By getting accustomed to you doing things for me.”

“But there are thousands of things that only you can do for yourself.”

“Name one.”

He swallowed a bite of salad. “Write.”

“You took pictures at today's track meet. I'm sure you could write the story too.”

“Okay. Put on makeup.”

“I don't wear any.”

“Ah, you had some on the last time we came here.”

“You noticed?”

He grinned. “That wasn't all I noticed.”

The guy unnerved her. “Moving right along. Try naming another.”

“Only you can decide about DC.”

She studied the napkin on her lap.

“Only you can love me. Only you can let me love you.”

“All right.” She glanced up at him. “I get it. Therein lies my independence.”

“Yes. The Galahad stuff isn't important. If I'm in the way, just say so.”

“Oh, you've been in the way for a long time, Carlucci.”

“Really?”

She took a bite of salad, delaying her answer, then deciding she may as well air things now as later. “You've been filling all the nooks and crannies inside of me, interfering with…everything.”

He smiled. “I know the feeling. I keep tripping over you.”

“Sounds like we're in each other's way.”

“But that's a good thing.”

“Is it? What happens when…?” She bit her lip.

“When what, Kate?”

“When you…find someone else. Someone who fits you.”

He reached over and covered her hand with his. “Kate, no one could fit me better than you. Believe me, I've never felt this way about anyone.”

“Oh, Tanner, I believe you, but… Remember your old friend at the theater, that woman who thought I was your sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Don't you see that with others? At the car lot today. The waitress here tonight. The way they look at us. People from church invite you over. I've never been invited over except to Britte's, and that was because they wanted press coverage. Tanner, I'm fine with who I am, that I'm short and have red hair and don't get a lot of admiring attention. That I'm not a soul mate to Adonis. You, on the other hand,
are
Adonis with the most gorgeous eyes and lashes I've ever seen. If you hang out with me, you're going to be spending all of your time explaining why.”

A slight frown furrowed his brow.

The waitress returned. Kate moved aside her salad, which she hadn't finished yet because she'd been talking so much. The wafting steam smelled delicious as the girl set a plate of seafood linguini before her.

“Miss, I'd like you to meet the woman I love.” Tanner was addressing the waitress who now fastened her attention on Kate.

“Her name's Katelyn. Isn't that pretty?” He turned to Kate now and continued speaking softly. “She reminds me of a Christmas elf, petite, witty, energetic, bubbling with joy. And then there's her color. Her hair's really a copper, like a shiny new penny, but it's close enough to red. And her eyes are green. Can you see them? They're this wonderful translucent color. Sometimes I think I can see all the way into her soul, which is incredibly beautiful. Of course, on the outside she's intoxicatingly beautiful. That creamy skin. I couldn't believe how soft it was the first time I touched it. And her lips. Mmm.” He kissed his fingertips in the manner of a chef. “
Magnifico.
She's got great, and I mean great, legs and— well, you get my drift. But you know what the best thing is? She makes me feel like Sir Galahad, a knight on a white horse who's bigger than life. You know, like I'm something special. What more could a guy ask for? Excuse me.”

He stood up, walked around the waitress to Kate's side, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her soundly. “I love you.” And then he sat back down.

Kate stared at him, speechless.

“Sir,” the waitress said, “will there be anything else?”

Still looking at Kate, he replied, “No, I don't think so. Thanks.”

Kate could only blink at him.

Tanner smiled and shrugged. “I don't have a problem with explaining why.”