A Time to Forgive. Marta Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ the first time since she was fifteen, she wouldn’t have to scrape for every penny. She’d be able to pay her mother’s final expenses and get a suitable stone to mark her grave. And she’d never have to rely on anyone else again.

      The wooden outside door creaked. Tory’s grip on the ladder tightened as she listened for Adam’s confident tread. Instead, the patter of running feet broke the stillness. She turned.

      The little girl scampering toward her had a tumble of light brown curls and a confident smile. A bright green cast on her wrist peeped out from the sleeve of a sunny yellow dress. She skidded to a stop perilously close to the ladder, and Tory jumped down.

      “Hey, take it easy.” She reached a steadying hand toward the child. “You don’t want to add another cast to your collection, do you?”

      The child smiled at her. Sunlight through stained glass crossed her face, and Tory saw that the cast matched her eyes. “I fell off the swing and broke my wrist,” she said.

      “You jumped off the swing.” Adam’s words quickly drew Tory’s gaze to where he stood in the doorway. With the sun behind him, Tory couldn’t see his expression, but she heard the smile in his voice. “And you’re not going to do that again, are you, Jenny?”

      This was his daughter, then, Tory’s employer’s granddaughter. Jenny needs this memorial to her mother. Mrs. Telforth’s words echoed in her mind. She does.

      The emphasis had seemed odd at the time. It still did.

      Jenny sent her father an impish grin, then turned to Tory. “I got to be off school all morning to get my cast checked. Did you ever break anything?”

      Adam reached the child and clasped her shoulders in a mock-ferocious grip. He was dressed a little more formally today than the night before, exchanging his khakis for dark trousers and a cream shirt. “Jenny, sugar, that’s a personal question. You shouldn’t ask Ms. Tory that when you don’t even know her.”

      His daughter looked at him, brow wrinkling. “But, Daddy, that’s how I’ll get to know her.”

      Tory’s lips twitched, as much at Adam’s expression as the child’s words. “I think she’s got you there.” She bent to hold out her hand to Adam’s little girl. “Hi, I’m Tory. Yes, I broke my leg when I was nine. It wasn’t much fun.”

      Jenny shook hands solemnly, her hand very small in Tory’s. “But why not? Didn’t you get a present for being a good girl when they put on the cast, and a chocolate cake for dessert, and an extra story?”

      Tory’s mind winced away from the memory of her stepfather berating her all the way to the emergency room for upsetting her mother while she lay in the back seat and bit her lip to keep from crying. “No, I’m afraid not. You’re a lucky girl.”

      “She’s a spoiled girl.” But Adam didn’t look as if the prospect bothered him very much. He smiled at his daughter with such love in his face that it hurt Tory’s heart.

      “I’m not spoiled, Daddy. Granny says I’m a caution.” She frowned at the word, then looked at Tory. “Do you know what that means?”

      “I suspect it means she loves you very much.”

      The frown disappeared. “Oh. That’s okay, then.”

      “Jenny, love, let me get a word in edgewise, okay?”

      Jenny nodded. “Okay, Daddy. I’ll put water in the flowers. Don’t worry, Granny showed me how.” She scurried off.

      “Sorry about that.” Adam watched his daughter for a moment, then turned to Tory. “I really didn’t come so Jenny could give you the third degree.”

      “She’s delightful. How old is she?”

      “Eight going on twenty, I think. I never know what she’s going to come out with next.”

      His smile suggested he wanted it that way. Jenny didn’t know how lucky she was. Tory realized she was seeing the Adam Miranda had described—the man everyone liked and relied on.

      “That must keep life interesting.” She wanted to prolong the moment. At least when they talked about his daughter they weren’t at odds. They almost felt like friends.

      “It does that.” He glanced at the window. “Are you finding much damage?”

      They were back to business, obviously. “Some of the windows are worse than others.” She traced a crack in the molding around the image of Jesus and the children. “Settling has done this, but I can fix it.”

      Adam reached out to touch the crack. His hand brushed hers, sending a jolt of awareness through her. He was so close, the sanctuary so quiet, that she could hear his breath. He went still for an instant, so briefly she might have imagined it.

      “Let me know if you need any equipment. We might have it at the boatyard.”

      She nodded. She had to stop letting the man affect her.

      “Look, Daddy. I brought the water.” Jenny put a plastic pitcher carefully on the floor, spilling only a few drops, then skipped over to them. “You know what? I know what you’re doing, Ms. Tory.”

      “Ms. Tory’s fixing the windows for us, sugar.”

      She shook her head, curls bouncing. “Not just that. Everybody knows that. But I know she’s gonna make a window for Mommy.”

      Tory happened to be watching his hand. It clenched so tightly his knuckles went white.

      “Who told you that?”

      “I did.”

      Tory blinked. She hadn’t heard the church door open again, maybe because she’d been concentrating too much on Adam. A small, white-haired woman marched erectly toward them, a basket filled with bronze and yellow mums on her arm. The striped dress and straw hat she wore might have been equally at home in the 1940s.

      “I told Jenny about the memorial window, Adam.” She peered at him through gold-rimmed glasses. “Do you have a problem with that?”

      “Of course not, Gran.” Tory thought the smile he gave his grandmother was a little forced, but he bent to kiss her cheek. “I was just surprised news traveled that fast.”

      “You ought to know how the island busybodies work by now.” She turned to Tory, holding out her hand. “I’m Naomi Caldwell. You’d be the lady who’s come to do the stained glass. Ms. Marlowe, is it?”

      “Tory Marlowe. I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Caldwell.”

      The elderly woman must be in her seventies at least, if she was Adam’s grandmother, but she had a firm grip and a bright, inquisitive gaze.

      “I hear tell you’re going to replace the Moses window.”

      “Does that bother you, Gran?” Adam sounded as if he hoped so.

      His grandmother shook her head decidedly. “Never was up to the rest of the windows. If something’s good, it’ll improve with age.”

      Adam’s СКАЧАТЬ