A Time to Forgive and Promise Forever (32 page)

“I'll help,” Sammy said, but when he pushed on a board, the wall above him swayed ominously.

“Don't, honey, don't. We have to take them away carefully.” She fought for calm. “Like playing jack-straws. We don't want them to topple over.”

Cautiously she lifted out one board, then another. She could reach through the hole and touch him, and she stroked his cheek.

“Just one more, then you can wiggle out.”

She grasped the heavy beam. It wouldn't move. She braced her feet against a pile of rubble and pulled again. It remained stubbornly immovable. Another crack of lightning lit the room, showing her Sammy's scared face.

She had to get him out. If another piece of the roof fell, they could both be buried. She tugged again, hands tearing against the rough wood, muscles screaming.

Help me, Lord, help me. I'm not strong enough. Help me!

“Miranda! Sammy!”

She recognized his voice even while her logical mind told her there was no way on earth Tyler could be there. He climbed into the closet beside her, running his hands down her arms, trying to pull her away from the beam.

“No, I have to—”

“I'll get it, love.” His voice was deep, reassuring. “Just move back a little.”

She couldn't. He had to unclasp her hands, lift her away. She felt his strength as he maneuvered past her, wedging himself into the space she'd occupied.

“How are you doing, son?”

He was so calm he might have been asking how Sammy's day at school had been, but she had glimpsed the anguish in his eyes.

“I'm okay, Daddy.” Sammy's voice trembled a little. “I'm glad you're here.”

“Me, too, son.” Tyler gave an experimental tug at the beam, then nodded to Miranda. “It's wedged too tightly to pull out,” he said softly. “I'll have to push it up. As soon as I clear enough space, you pull him out.”

She nodded, not sure she trusted her voice to speak. Tyler stooped and wedged his back under the beam, bracing his hands against the wall. With another glance at her, he began to push.

The beam remained stubbornly immobile. Lightning cracked again, seeming to give Tyler more strength. He pushed harder, face taut, muscles tight. The beam creaked, groaned, then began to inch upward.

The hole through which she'd touched Sammy's face widened a little, then a little more. She reached through, her legs pressing against Tyler's. His were solid as rock, holding danger away from their son.

She got both hands around Sammy's shoulders. “Almost enough,” she breathed. “Just a little more.”

The veins in Tyler's temples stood out. Eyes closed, he pushed harder—surely beyond the limit of his human strength.

Help him, Lord. Help us.

She clutched their son, began pulling him through the space made by his father's strength.

“It's okay, sugar. Just a little more.”

She had him out far enough that he could clasp her around the neck. She tugged, and he was free.

She hugged him tight. “He's all right. I've got him. You can let go now.”

Tyler shook his head, sweat pouring off his face. “Get him out before I let go.”

What would the whole precarious stack do when he let go? It could come down on him.

“I'll help you—”

“Out!” It was nearly a shout, and it propelled her backward out of the closet, into the rain again. She clutched Sammy close, breathing a frightened prayer.

Protect him, Lord. Don't let me lose him now, please.

The remaining walls seemed to shudder, and a cloud of dust erupted from the closet.

“Tyler!”

Even as she cried his name, he emerged from the smoke. His arms circled both of them. They stumbled to the shelter of the kitchen.

Safe. God be praised, they were safe.

T
hey weren't safe yet. Gasping from the pain in his back and shoulders, Tyler grabbed Miranda and Sammy, hustling them through the kitchen and into the large living room. Closing the door behind them instantly muted the roar of the storm, and he saw with relief that storm shutters protected the windows.

“Are you all right?” Miranda pulled free from his arms, her attention on Sammy. She took his face between her hands, then ran her fingers through his hair. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Sammy wiggled, impatient at being held. “I'm okay, Momma. Don't fuss.”

Tyler caressed his son's face as he set him on his feet. “That's what mothers do, son. Be glad of it.”

“What about you?” Miranda was looking at Tyler with an expression he couldn't interpret. “Are you hurt?”

He stretched cautiously. “Nothing permanently damaged.”

He saw her hands then, and caught them in his, turning the palms up to reveal the abrasions. Something winced inside him at the thought of Miranda struggling alone, without him, ripping her hands trying to free their son.

Thank You, Lord.
The passion in his prayer caught him unaware.
Thank You.

“It's nothing.” She tried to pull her hands away, but he held them fast.

“We need to get those cleaned up.” He glanced around. “Is there water somewhere?”

“Should be jugs under the kitchen sink.” She shivered as thunder boomed, and he caressed her wrists lightly.

“Sounds like it's moving off.”

She nodded, and he thought she drew on some reserve of strength to speak naturally. “Even if it gets worse again, this part of the original building will be safe. It's gone through a couple of hurricanes without falling.”

He turned her toward the sofa. “You relax. I'll get the water.”

He opened the door to the kitchen cautiously, but the room seemed secure. The room beyond, the addition Miranda said they'd built when her father was a teenager, had taken the brunt of the damage. He found a water jug and hurried back to Miranda and Sammy.

They were snuggled close together on the sofa, and he stood for a moment, looking at them, his
heart overflowing. They were safe and together. At the moment nothing else seemed significant.

“Here we go.” He set the water jug on the coffee table, then dampened the dish towel he'd found on the counter.

“I can manage,” Miranda protested, but he clasped her hands and began to sponge her palms gently.

“Let Daddy,” Sammy said. He looked at Tyler with something that might have been awe in his eyes. “I knew you'd come.”

It was what he'd said when he was trapped in the closet and Tyler had been terrified he wouldn't be able to get him out.

“I came,” he said. “But how did you know?”

“Cause I prayed.” Sammy wiggled a little closer to his mother. “When I was scared, I asked God to help us. And I asked Him to send you. And He did.”

“You know what?” Tyler smiled at his son. “I prayed the same thing. God must have heard both of us.”

He sensed Miranda's measuring gaze on him as he cradled her hand in his to clean her cuts. She must be wondering whether he meant what he said.

She couldn't know how the past weeks had gradually opened the long-closed doors of his soul. He hadn't known it himself until he'd instinctively turned to God when he'd been afraid for them.

Whatever Miranda saw must have satisfied her, because she nodded. “All three of us,” she said softly. “He heard all of us.”

He held her hands, his gaze meeting hers.
Probably the question he wanted to ask showed in his face. Could she see that?

She moved a little, drawing her hands away, glancing at Sammy. “Maybe—” She sounded a little breathless. “Maybe we ought to try to get through to the family. They'll be worried.” She smiled suddenly. “You do have your cell phone, don't you?”

He pulled it from his pocket and handed it over, wondering what she was thinking. Did she know how much he longed for a private moment with her, so he could try to repair the damage he'd done with his clumsy proposal?

He studied her face as she spoke with her father, cherishing the curve of her cheek, the generous mouth, the love in her eyes. He hoped he heard caring in her voice when she told her father that Tyler was there, that thanks to Tyler they were safe.

Was it selfish to want more than safety? He had to find a way to let her know how much he cared—to convince her that he didn't want a fake marriage. He wanted the real thing.

 

Miranda tucked an afghan over Sammy, who was curled up asleep in the big easy chair. The storm had ended, but not before they'd dined on hot dogs and marshmallows. Then, suddenly exhausted, Sammy had fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence.

Tyler added another log to the fire, then leaned his elbow on the mantel. He'd lost his tie somewhere along the line, and he'd pulled on an old flannel shirt
of her father's in place of the dress shirt that had been ripped and filthy. The mismatched clothing, the shadow of a beard, his tousled hair only served to make him more handsome.

He glanced at Sammy. “He's wiped out.”

She sank onto the sofa. “So am I. It's just as well we decided to stay here until morning. I'd probably have run the boat aground if we tried to go back tonight.”

The rain spattered gently against the windows as Tyler came to sit next to her. Her nerves jumped. With Sammy asleep, they were alone.

The hurtful words they'd spoken to each other when they parted returned to haunt her. What if he intended to repeat his proposal? How would she ever summon the strength to say no again?

He touched her wrist, and her pulse fluttered.

“How—how could you come to the island today?” Any question would do to keep him from knowing how she felt when he was near. “What happened to the deal?”

For an instant he looked blank, then he shook his head, smiling. “Hard as it is to believe, I'd actually forgotten all about it. I put Josh in charge.” His gaze lingered on her face, so warm he might as well have been touching her skin. “I had other things on my mind.”

She swallowed. She had to remember that nothing had really changed. He still wanted a sham of a marriage that she couldn't accept.

“Maybe you ought to call him and find out what happened.” Anything to put off the moment when
he'd ask her again, when she'd have to try to find the courage to refuse again.

She felt his gaze on her face and stubbornly refused to look at him. Finally he drew away a few inches and picked up the phone.

While he talked, she studied her hands, folded in her lap, and tried not to let herself think about what it would be like to be Tyler's wife again.

“Good job, Josh. I knew you could do it.”

The warmth in his voice pleased her. Apparently he and his brother had found some common ground at last.

“No, I don't want to prosecute. Just let him leave. He can't hurt us any longer.”

He exchanged a few more words, then hung up. She looked at him questioningly. “It went all right?”

“Very much so. Josh handled everything perfectly.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Maybe better than I would have. Seems I've been underestimating my little brother.”

“You trusted him today.”

His hand closed over hers, setting her pulse thudding. “Thanks to you.”

“Me?”

“Your family,” he amended. “If I hadn't been here, seen how all of you rely on each other, I might never have taken the risk.” His gaze, very serious, rested on her. “I remembered something your father said about how he'd never trusted his brother again after that business when the dolphin was lost, that maybe his distrust kept his brother from being the man he
should have been. I didn't want to wake up and feel that about Josh twenty years from now.”

“I'm glad,” she said, wondering if he could hear the joy she felt that he'd made peace with his brother. “And I'm glad you decided not to prosecute Henry.”

He squeezed her hand. “'You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good.' You quoted that verse to me, remember? Henry sent that photograph for his own ends, but it brought me Sammy. I couldn't punish him for that.”

Thank you, Lord.
The prayer was whispered in her heart. Tyler was becoming the man God intended him to be. Whatever happened between them, he'd be a better father for that.

“You know, you didn't ask the right question.”

She looked at him, startled. “What right question?”

“You asked how I could come back. You didn't ask why I came back.”

She was suddenly breathless, and her heart seemed to be beating in her throat. She managed a whisper. “Why did you?”

He lifted her hand gently to his lips. “Because I did it all wrong when I asked you to marry me.” His voice was husky, and she felt his breath against her fingers as he spoke. “I tried to cheat. I tried to get what I wanted without risking my heart.”

She couldn't speak to save herself, but he didn't seem to expect it.

“I was kidding myself, you know that, don't you? You already had my heart right here.” He turned her hand over, dropped the lightest of kisses in her
bruised palm. “I love you, Miranda, with all my heart. Please marry me again. Let us have a real marriage—the one that God intended for us.”

Joy bubbled inside her until she thought it would lift her right into the air. In spite of the darkness outside, she could almost hear a bird singing, giving wings to her heart.

She reached to touch his dear face. “Don't you know I've never stopped loving you?” She traced the outline of his lips with her fingertip. “Yes, Tyler. I've never stopped being your wife.”

She saw the sheen of tears in his eyes through a haze of joy. His lips claimed hers, and she thought her heart would burst with loving him.

What was meant to be from the beginning was coming true. Their love had been broken. Now it was mended, and it would be all the stronger.

 

A clatter on the porch woke Miranda. For an instant she thought the house was coming down around them. Then she sat up and smiled at Tyler, waking on the sofa.

“Time to get up. Sounds as if the family has arrived.”

Sammy had already jumped up and run to the door. In a moment the room was filled with Caldwells, all of them talking at once. All exclaiming, hugging, kissing. Tyler looked embarrassed at all the emotion, but he was smiling.

“Not much left but matchsticks out there,” her father said, coming in from the kitchen. “Still, we may as well start clearing up. Jeff and his boys just pulled in, and Adam's brought equipment from the boatyard.”

Tyler stretched. “I'll come and help you.”

“No need, son.” Her father clapped his shoulder. “You've done more than your share already. Get some breakfast and coffee in you first. I reckon Sallie brought some clothes for y'all, too.”

“That I did.” Sallie handed him a bag, then enveloped him in a hug. “God bless you, Tyler. Thank you.”

He drew back, as if not sure how to react, but Miranda saw pleasure in his eyes. “Just thank God,” he said. “That's enough.”

Miranda disengaged herself from Chloe's hug, wondering whether the happiness in their faces had already given away the announcement they'd need to make once they'd told Sammy. Her heart clenched. Would he be as happy as she hoped?

From outside, one of the twins yelled at the kids to stay away from the wreckage. “Let's go upstairs and change.” She took Tyler's arm. “Maybe by that time they'll have stopped making so much noise.”

Tyler grinned as he followed her. “I don't think it'll get any better.”

She showed him into one of the bedrooms, then started for the other side of the hall to change. Realizing she hadn't taken her clothes from the bag, she turned back.

“Tyler, I forgot—” She stopped. He'd taken his shirt off, revealing the dark bruise the beam had left clear across his back.

She went to him, touching him with a murmur of distress. When he'd been tending her hands, he must
have been in pain. “Why didn't you tell me you were hurting? We ought to get you to a doctor.”

He took her hands in his. “I don't need a doctor. But I could use a kiss.”

She smiled at him, still troubled. “You can always have that.”

He'd barely touched her lips when the door creaked. Which of her kin had decided to interrupt them now?

Their son stood in the doorway. She wasn't sure what to say, and she suspected Tyler didn't have a clue, either.

Sammy solved it for them. “Are you going to get married again?”

“We want to.” Tyler spoke before Miranda could. “Would that be okay with you?”

Sammy surveyed them solemnly, then nodded. Suddenly he rushed across the room and threw himself at them. That three-way hug was probably the best thing she had ever felt in her life.

Too soon, Sammy wiggled free. Uncertainty clouded his eyes. “Will we have to live up north?”

“I've been thinking about that.” Tyler glanced at her, as if measuring her approval. “We've got some ideas for expanding our companies in the southeast, so I thought maybe we could live in Charleston. That way we could have a house on the island, too, and come over as much as we wanted to.”

She could hardly believe what she heard. Tyler must have been thinking about this half the night, and she knew what it cost him to make this change in his life.

“Cool,” Sammy pronounced, and then darted from the room, shouting. “Hey, Gran. Guess what?”

“Somehow I don't think we'll have to tell anyone else.” Tyler put his arm around Miranda again.

She searched his face. “Do you really want to do this? Because I'd live anywhere with you.” She wasn't afraid any more.

“I know you would, but this is what I want. Developing something new will be a challenge for me, and Josh can be in charge in Baltimore without me looking over his shoulder all the time. Now, about that kiss—”