A Daring Vow (Vows) Page 9

  Caitlin regarded him impatiently. “Not blue, Daddy. Teal.”

  “We could find some material and make you one,” Zelda offered. “If your father wouldn’t mind.”

  “Please, Daddy,” Caitlin implored. “I could wear it to my birthday party.”

  A sudden, indulgent twinkle lit his eyes. “Are you having a birthday party?” he teased.

  “Next month. Remember? You promised. Grandmother said she’d bake a cake. And you said I could bring some of my friends from school home for the whole weekend.”

  “Is that next month? I could have sworn your birthday wasn’t for ages yet.”

  A grin broke across Caitlin’s too solemn face. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you? You remembered.”

  Taylor smiled. “Yes, I remembered. How could I possibly forget such an important occasion? As for a new dress, I suppose I could take you shopping for one.” He looked as if he’d rather spend a month in jail.

  “I’d really enjoy making one for her,” Zelda offered again, not entirely certain why she was so hell-bent on insinuating herself into Taylor’s life. Perhaps it was the forlorn, lost look she saw so often in Caitlin’s eyes. Perhaps it was merely her own need to experience what family life with Taylor might have been like, even if it was only for a few hours of pure make-believe.

  “It wouldn’t be any trouble,” she insisted when she saw him wavering. “I could pick her up one afternoon to go look for material, then drive her back to school. My mother’s sewing machine still works. I used it just the other day to make some curtains for the bedroom.”

  “Please,” Caitlin said again. Wide blue eyes regarded her father with wistfulness.

  In the end, Taylor was clearly no match for his daughter’s appeal. He smiled. “I suppose it would be all right. I’ll speak to the headmistress when I take Caitlin back tomorrow. Then you’ll be able to make the arrangements with her whenever it’s convenient for you to drive over.”

  Caitlin flung herself into her father’s arms. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” She grinned at Zelda. “It’ll be so much fun. Maybe we can even go for ice cream after.”

  “Oh, I think ice cream would be an absolute necessity after a long afternoon of shopping.”

  Just then Caitlin caught sight of her grandparents and went running to tell them her news. Zelda’s breath caught in her throat as she saw Geraldine Matthews shoot a questioning look in her direction. Beau Matthews looked thunderstruck. An instant later he was striding in their direction, his expression stormy.

  Zelda stood her ground. Taylor didn’t budge from where he stood next to her. The air around them seemed to crackle with sudden tension.

  “Good morning, Father,” he said.

  “Damn it all,” Beau thundered, glowering at Zelda.

  Before he could launch into an embarrassing tirade, Taylor interceded. “You’re standing on the church steps, Father, with all the neighbors listening to every word. Don’t you think a little discretion is called for?” he said mildly.

  A dull red flush crept up Beau’s neck as he bit back whatever he’d been about to say. “We don’t need the likes of you back in this town,” he said in a low growl meant only for Zelda’s ears.

  “Dad! That kind of talk is uncalled for,” Taylor said, his own tone furious. In a deliberate gesture of defiance, he put his hand protectively on Zelda’s waist. He glanced down at her, his gaze filled with compassion. “I think we should be going inside now.”

  Zelda fought to blink back the sudden onset of tears. Damn it, the last thing she wanted was this man’s pity. “Taylor, you don’t need to do this.”

  “Yes,” he said flatly, squaring his shoulders defiantly. “I do.” He looked toward his mother, who’d remained a discreet distance away to prevent his daughter from overhearing whatever his father was likely to blurt out. “Caitlin, let’s go inside now.”

  She scampered immediately to his side and tucked one hand into his, the other into Zelda’s. Zelda felt her heart lurch at the unexpected display of solidarity. Together, ignoring Beau’s furious oath and his wife’s attempt to placate him, they walked inside and made their way to a pew at the front of the church.

  It wasn’t much of a triumph. Zelda knew that sooner or later she’d pay a price for it. An angered Beau Matthews was always a formidable enemy. Worse, she knew that by the end of the day word that Taylor had chosen her over his family would be all over Port William. The news would be dissected with almost the same surgical precision as the chicken at most Sunday dinners. Sides would be chosen. Bets would be placed. And once again, the romance of Zelda Lane and Taylor Matthews would be the hottest topic in town.

  * * *

  It was late Monday afternoon before Zelda had a chance to discuss with Taylor privately what had happened at church and its likely aftermath. Even then she hesitated to bring it up. She didn’t want him denying as meaningless something that had meant so much to her. That stance made up in some small way for his failure to stick by her years ago.

  She stood in the doorway to his office, watching as he bent over his law books, exhaustion evident in the weary set of his shoulders. She longed to have the right to massage away the tension, just to have the right to touch him at all in a way that wasn’t sexual. Sometimes, if she allowed herself to think about it, it cut right through to her soul that he would tolerate an intimate caress, but refused any pretense of real caring. It reminded her all too clearly that he still thought of her as a woman whose morals were no better than they had to be.

  And yet he had stood up to his father in public the day before, she thought with a faint stirring of hope. She had to know why he had been willing to risk all the speculation and potential embarrassment.

  “Taylor?” she said finally.

  He glanced up at her, his expression wary. “Yes?”

  “Do you have a minute?”

  “I’m right in the middle of researching the precedent on this case.”

  “I’ll help you do that,” she volunteered. “It won’t take long.”

  “That’s not your job,” he protested.

  “Maybe it’s not exactly what you hired me to do, but I’m qualified as a paralegal. You might as well take advantage of all of my skills.”

  An unexpected spark of mischief danced in his eyes and made her heart flip over.

  “All of them?” he taunted.

  “You know what I meant.” She drew in a deep breath. “Taylor, there’s something I need to ask you.”

  As if he sensed that she was about to bring up a subject he didn’t want to hear, he nodded with obvious reluctance. “Go ahead. Ask.”

  “Why did you do what you did yesterday? Why did you defend me to your father?”

  “It was nothing.”

  “It was, and you know it. So did everyone else on the church lawn. I need to know why.”

  “Because I refuse to allow him to humiliate you like that. You’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

  “I hadn’t done anything to deserve it ten years ago, either,” she reminded him.

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I know that. But ten years ago, I wasn’t very wise or very brave. I was single-minded and ambitious, and I thought my family knew what was best.” He leveled his gaze on her. “I regret that more than I can ever tell you.”

  There was no mistaking the genuine anguish in his voice, the regret in his eyes, the absolute sincerity in his voice. It might have been the first genuinely honest thing he’d said to her in years.

  “Maybe it’s time to put the past behind us,” she told him, her voice little more than a whisper. Now, just maybe they could move on. She realized that as hard as she’d been fighting it, that was what she wanted more than anything else in the world.

  He nodded at her suggestion. “It’s probably way past time to do that,” he agreed.

  Her heart leapt, then crashed as she saw the expression in his eyes. Suddenly she recognized the but she should have heard in his voice. He struggled with it, then clearl
y lost the internal debate.

  “But, Zelda…” He hesitated again.

  “What?” she demanded impatiently. Whatever his reservations were, she wanted him to spell them out. She couldn’t fight something that remained unspoken.

  “I need to be honest with you.”

  A sense of dread welled up inside her. Those were the kind of words always spoken before bad news, before rejection. He’d said the exact same words ten years before, though his voice had been shaking then, had lacked the conviction she’d just heard. Unable to encourage him to continue, after all, she simply waited, wishing there was more of a hint of turmoil in his eyes.

  “I wouldn’t want you thinking that meant we have a future,” he said finally. “Or even a present.”

  An icy knot formed in the middle of Zelda’s chest at his flat, unequivocal tone. In the end, the apology had been his way of closing a door, not opening one.

  “No, of course not,” she said around the lump in her throat.

  And then, because she didn’t think she could bear it another minute, she fled.

  An hour later she was cursing herself for not telling him that she wasn’t looking for anything from him, for not salvaging some tiny shred of pride by laughing in his face.

  “Who needs you, Taylor Matthews?” That was what she should have said. “Who wants you?”

  The problem, unfortunately, was that the answer to both questions seemed to be that she did. Ten years of separation and festering anger had not done a damn thing to dim the needing or the wanting. If she were very wise, if she had an ounce of pride left, she would walk in tomorrow morning and hand in her notice. The month’s trial was ending, anyway. She could claim she missed Los Angeles more than she’d expected, that the estate meant nothing to her, and that a writer’s scholarship in her mother’s memory would be for the best. She could do that. She should.

  But she knew in her heart that she wouldn’t. She was going to stay in Port William and play this damnable charade out to the end. No matter how it turned out. No matter how much it hurt. Because this time she would not take the coward’s way out and run. She would stay and fight for the man she loved as she should have ten years before.

  Chapter Nine

  Zelda was slapping a fresh coat of paint on the outside of the house when she heard the muffled laughter behind her. Whirling around, she saw Sarah Lynn, her face alight with barely concealed mirth.

  “Interesting color,” she observed. “You trying to make a statement or what?”

  Zelda regarded her indignantly. “There is nothing wrong with raspberry.”

  “For fruit, maybe even kitchen curtains, but a whole house? Can’t say I’ve ever seen one that exact shade.”

  Zelda stepped back and studied the house intently. It was bright, somewhere between the color of cotton candy and actual ripe berries. With white trim, it ought to look downright cheerful. “I like it,” she said staunchly.

  “I take it, then, that you aren’t planning to sell it, after all.”

  Zelda’s gaze narrowed. Going or staying wasn’t something she was prepared to commit to aloud. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you’d be painting it a nice subdued white if you hoped to find a buyer.”

  Zelda grimaced at Sarah Lynn’s perceptiveness. “Okay, I’m painting it raspberry because I like raspberry,” she conceded cautiously. “It’s a happy color.”

  “And it’ll drive Beau Matthews crazy every time he has to ride past this place.”

  Zelda grinned unrepentantly. “That, too.”

  “Has Taylor seen it?”

  “No. I don’t expect him to be dropping by anytime soon, not after what happened the last time he was here. In fact, I doubt he’d come into the office if he could help it.”

  Sarah Lynn settled into a rocking chair with an expectant look on her face. “Sounds fascinating.”

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Zelda chided. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  Sarah Lynn nodded as if she’d revealed every detail of a torrid love scene. “That would explain his behavior on the church lawn Sunday morning.”

  “You weren’t even there.”

  “Didn’t need to be. I had three phone calls by noon. The accounts were generally the same. Beau expressed his disapproval of your presence in Port William and Taylor told him off. Then, with his daddy about ready to explode, Taylor and Caitlin defied him and went inside with you. Accurate?”

  “Close enough.”

  Sarah Lynn nodded in satisfaction. “I knew that boy’d wake up one of these days. Has he asked you to stay here permanently, yet?”

  “Hardly. Offhand, I’d say this little display was nothing more than a belated rebellion on Taylor’s part. I don’t think it had much to do with me.”

  “Honey, it had everything to do with you. It’s been eating away at Taylor for ten years the way he mistreated you back then, whether he wants to admit it or not. He still loves you. Always did. Always will.”

  Zelda shrugged. “I wish I could believe that, but I don’t think so. I think he considers Sunday’s act the ultimate apology. My guess is that he’d be perfectly happy if I skedaddled out of town so he wouldn’t have to take another stance like that.”

  “I’m not sure who you’re selling short here, yourself or Taylor. You’re a woman any man would be proud to marry. And Taylor might have been a little misguided once upon a time, but he’s a decent, honorable man, to say nothing of being a certified hunk who’s aged like vintage wine.”

  “I’m not selling either of us short. I’ve developed a fair amount of self-confidence over the past ten years. And nobody ever knew Taylor’s attributes better than I. They’ve kept me awake more nights than I care to admit to.”

  “Then what are you worrying about? It’s just a matter of time before you all work things out. Some things in life are just meant to go together. Ham and eggs. Coffee and cream. You and Taylor.”

  Zelda regarded her wryly. “Do you know how many people no longer eat ham and eggs? Do you know how many take their coffee black? I think you’ve overestimated the certainties in life.”

  “Give it time, hon.”

  Zelda shook her head. “No. He flat-out told me not to read anything into what he did. What’s past is past. We have no present and no future. He was adamant about that,” she said, turning away so Sarah Lynn wouldn’t see the tears that automatically sprang up as she repeated Taylor’s words. She rubbed at her eyes with the backs of her paint-spattered fists, probably leaving streaks of raspberry down her face so she looked like a sad-faced clown.

  Sarah Lynn uttered an unladylike sniff of derision. “Sounds an awful lot like a fool who’s protesting too much. Did you believe him?”

  “He wants me to,” Zelda said firmly.

  “Did you believe him?” Sarah Lynn repeated.

  Zelda scowled at her. “I’m painting this damned house, aren’t I?”

  Sarah Lynn nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Just remember that sometimes a woman knows what’s good for a man a lot sooner than he recognizes it. With Taylor, there’s a whole lot of history to overcome.”

  “He says that’s behind us.”

  “I’m not talking about your history with him, hon. Hell, one of these days he’ll see that you were the best thing that ever happened to him. It’s his marriage he has to get beyond. No one around here knows all the details, but Maribeth’s death left Taylor with a lot of pain and bitterness. He’s not over it yet.”

  “I’m not sure I want to get into a competition with the ghost of the undying love of his life.”

  “I don’t think that’s something you need to worry yourself about. To my knowledge, you’re the first and only woman ever to get a rise out of him, including that so-called society woman he married. Taylor’s a calendar-worthy hunk. A lot of women have tried to comfort him or straight-out seduce him, before, during and after his marriage. Since his wife’s death, none have succeeded, so far as I know. He’s always polite, but disi
nterested. He needs you, hon, needs you to put some joy back into his life. Maybe even more than you need him.”

  With that enigmatic declaration, Sarah Lynn hefted herself out of the rocker and headed for home. After she was gone, Zelda tried desperately to convince herself that Sarah Lynn was right, that staying in Port William and fighting for Taylor wasn’t going to be the costliest mistake of her life.

  Whether it was or it wasn’t didn’t seem to matter in the end. She might not have admitted it to Sarah Lynn, but she was staying for as long as it took and that was that.

  * * *

  Taylor studied the calendar on his desk and tried not to count backward to the first day Zelda had come to work for him. He didn’t need to finish to know that she’d been there one month. Four weeks. All she’d committed to. It wouldn’t surprise him to discover that she’d flown back to Los Angeles over the weekend. No one in Port William, least of all him, had exactly made her feel welcome. In fact, it would take a tough hide to withstand the insults his father alone had uttered.

  One thing that Taylor knew, though few others did, was that Zelda’s very attractive hide barely protected her vulnerabilities. She might have a smart mouth and daring ways, but underneath it all she still bore all the hurts of a kid who’d only wanted to fit in and somehow never had.

  But if Ella Louise’s eccentricities had caused her pain, they had also given her strength. No one would ever see Zelda Lane looking defeated; no one would ever guess how difficult things had been for her.

  Except Taylor. And he had only made things worse. Damn, a man could hate himself for a mistake like that.

  He glanced at his watch, then at the door. It was five before eight. Zelda was always at her desk on the dot of eight o’clock. Other people in Port William might be lax about opening and closing their offices, but she was always prompt. He watched the sweep of his second hand as it went around once, then twice, then a third time. To his deep regret, his heart seemed to thud with anxiety. What if she had gone? How would he feel about that?

  The quiet opening and closing of the outside door kept him from having to be honest with himself. Even so, he couldn’t deny the relief that washed over him as he heard her call out.